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BEEEZY POINT. 




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'T'TT-C' A T^TT A "Zr^lMQ I A Farcical Romance in Three Acts. ByAUTlltTR 
inn. /\lVli-lZ-V>'i>.3. ^Y pi^-nKO. Seven male and live female char- 

' ai.'ters. Oostxiines, modern; sci^iiery, an exterior 

and an interior, not at all difficult. This adniirahle laicc is too well known 
throat;!) its recent performance by the Lyceum 'i'licatre (>imi)any, New York, to 
need description. It is especially recummended to yoiuig ladies' schools and 
colleges. (1st).").) 

THE CABINET MINISTER. I iJ^^r^L^rLj^ 

— • — • ' and nine female character.^. 

Costumes, modern society ; scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, in- 
genious in constrii'dion, and brilliant in dialogue. (1892.) 



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Vff FkAMnV'nTnr l a Farce in Three Acts. By ARTH0E W. Pinero. 
^1% LJJ\X\LJ I. J-/lV-.rv* Seven male, four female characters. Costumes, niod- 

\f^ — — ' ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amu.sing piece 

was another success iu the New York and Boston theatres, and has been ex- 
tensively played from manuscript by anuiteurs, for whom it is in every respect 
suited. It provides an unusual number of capital character parts, is very tunny, 
and an excellent acting piece. Plays two hours and a half. (1893.) 



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T'U'C TJ/^TS'D'V T-TiOTSC'C I A Comedy in Three Acts. ByARTHiTB 
1 Xlii riyjDDX rH^lXOE-. w. Pineko. Ten male, five female ehar- 
' acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- 
terior ; costumes, modern. This piece is best known iii this country through the 
admirable performance of Mr. John Hare, who produced it in all the principal 
cities. Its story presents a clever satire of false philantliropy, and is full of 
interest and humor. Well adapted for amateurs, by whom it has been success- 
fully acted. Plays two hours and a half. (1892.) 

T Ar\V RrM nvrTTTrr TT I ^ ^^^y ■'^ F'^"'" ^cts. By Arthur W. 
J-'jnAJ X D\J\J l^ I. IT \J 1^* I pijfERO. Eight male and seven female char- 

— — ' acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, four 

Interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, % little sombre in 
key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) 



^n 



BREEZY POINT 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY 



BY 

BELLE MARSHALL LOCKE 

AUTHOR OF "MARIE'S SECRET," "THE GREAT CATASTROPHE," ETC. 



BOSTON 



1899 



-p^ 







BREEZY POINT. 



25128 CHARACTERS. 

Aunt Debby Dexter, Mistress of Breezy Point. 

Elinor Pearl, of unknown parentage. 

AsHRAEL Grant, a workhouse waif. 

Mrs. Hardscratch, with business propensities. 

The Hardscratch Twins, who "-never tell ftoihin''." 

Mkhitible DooLlTTLE, Manufacturer of Catarrh Snuff and Bitters. 

Bernice Vernon, 

Laura Leigh, Au7tt Debby' s summer boarders, fresh from board- 

Edith Norton, ' ing school. 

Clarice Fenleigh, 

Fantine, Miss Ver7ion's French maid. 

Old Clem, the gipsy. 

N. B. — The characters of the Hardscratch Twins can be eliminated 
if desired to shorten cast. 

Costumes of the present day. 



U(w< 




TMP96-0 069 33 



Copyright, 1898, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



7 ^. -^ 



^ 



BREEZY POINT. 



PROPERTIES. 



Act I. — Flowers for Elinor and Ashrael, newspapers on table, 
travelling-bags for girls, letter for Ashrael, dinner-bell ready off left. 

Act II. — Pan of water, dish-cloth and dishes for Ashrael, dish- 
towel for Fantine, camera for Bernice, drawing-portfolio for Clarice, 
two tin pails for the twins, bag of candy for Laura, work basket with 
stockings for Aunt Debby, pan of pop-corn for Elinor, carpet-bag, 
small satchel, band-box and umbrella for Miss Doolittle, glass of 
lemonade for Elinor, book for Ashrael, dinner-horn for Elinor, pan of 
apples and knife for Aunt Debby, basin of water, sponge and bandages 
for Elinor, baskets for Old Clem, glass of wine and crackers for Aunt 
Debby, tomato can for Laura, letter and valise for Fantine, large bas- 
ket for Elinor, fan for Clarice. 

Act III. — Camera for Bernice, small tin box for Miss Doolittle, 
basket and packages for Ashrael, letter for Edith, satchel and box of 
roses for Aunt Debby, glass of wine for Ashrael. 




BREEZY POINT. 



ACT I. 



SCENE. — Sitting-room at Breezy Point. Table R., with books, 
newspapers, etc. Chairs each side, with hassock L. Couch 
L. Small table, with lamp, at head of couch. Easy-chair 
by table. Bookcase -up L. Easel, with picture, up R. Door, 
with portieres C. ELINOR at table R., ASHRAEL, L. of table, 
discovered, arratiging flowers. 

Elinor. There, Ashrael ! {Holding up bouquets. This 
will do for the front chamber. You say that you have filled the 
vases for the other rooms ? 

Ashrael. Yes, Miss Elinor, I've put narsturtimums in the 
room at the head of the stairs, sweet peas in the corner room, 
an' a mixter in the back chamber. 

Elinor. A what ? 

Ashrael. A mixter. Bein' as you're goin' to put that fur- 
rin maid in that room, I thought a mixed bokay would be 
more 'propriate for her. 

Elinor {laughing). You always had a nice sense of the 
fitness of things, Ashrael. 

Ashrael. Yes, I'm might pertickler about things fittin' ; 
an' speakin' of that makes me think, my red bask, that Miss 
Cuttin' made, iits like all possessed. I can turn 'round twice in 
it; an' there ain't much chance of fattin' up, bein' as you're 
goin' to have a house full of summer boarders, every one of 'em 
high-falutin' girls, who'll want some one to dance attendance 
on 'em from mornin' till night. 

Elinor. Bring your waist to me to-night, after supper, 
Ashrael, and I'll fix it for you. I am sorry to hear you speak so 
of the young ladies who are coming to stay with us. You 
know, as well as I, Ashrael, that there is a heavy mortgage on 
Breezy Point, and it something is not done to meet the payments, 
dear, patient Aunt Debby will have to leave the only home she 

5 



6 BREEZY POINT. 

ever knew. She has been so good to you and me, Ashrael, 
surely we want to do what little we can to help her. 

Ashrael {wiping her eyej on apron). You make me feel 
meaner'n pusley. Miss Elinor. Course I wants to do all I can, 
but it's in my blood to grumble, an' I can't help it to save my 
life ! Forgot ? Well, I guess I hain't forgot how Miss Dexter 
took me out of the poorhouse five years ago, and how you've 
both been a-doin' for me ever sence. I'll make you proud of 
me some day ; see if I don't ! 

Elinor. I hope so, Ashrael. 

Ashrael. Yes, sir-ree ! I'm still aspirin', an' them work- 
house imps, who used to call me " Ashes," will find there was 
a spark lett in 'em, that'll make a blaze one of these days. 
There, these are all ready now an' I'll jest have time to put 'em 
on the bureaus an' sweep the front piazza, before the train comes 
with that tribe of pesky — \rises) er — with the young ladies. 
{Aside.) My tongue gets longer an' sharper every day ! 

[Exit L. 

Elinor. I'm afraid that I feel something as Ashrael does 
about a crowd of noisy girls invading our quiet place ; but if 
my little scheme will bring some money to Aunt Debby, and 
drive that careworn look from her sv^^eet face, I'd be happy in 
Bedlam. [Rises. 

Aunt Debby {outside). Vanilla flavoring, Bridget, don't 
forget. {Enters L.) Ah, you are here, my dear. I'm a little 
anxious about the pudding, for I'm not quite sure that Bridget 
is the experienced cook she would have us think she is. 

Elinor. Sit down a few minutes, Aunt Debby, and get 
cool. You look a bit " fiustrated," as Ashrael would say. 
(Aunt Debby sits l. of table r., afid Elinor takes rose from 
table.) Isn't that a beauty ? I saved it for you. {Pins it on 
her gown.) We have a few moments before the train comes 
and let's compose ourselves. [Sits on hassock at her feet. 

Aunt Debby. Ah, Elinor, I fear this is a w-ild scheme of 
yours ; and now that the time draws near, I'm afraid this little 
place, that is so dear to us, will be very dull to those gay school- 
girls. 

Elinor. It will be perfectly delightful to them. Aunt Debby, 
mark my words ! Just think what a humdrum life they must 
lead at Madame Fmikin's city boarding-school, and what a 
delight these big meadows, the grove and the lake will be to 
them ! 

Aunt Debby. Yes, I know, but 

Elinor. " But me no buts ! " Two of the girls' parents 
have gone abroad and they couldn't go home ; one of them has 
money enough to buy friends, to be sure, but the poor thing 
hasn't a living relative in the country j and the other can't go to 



BREEZY POINT. f 

her home, because there is scarlet fever in tbe house. The 
girls wanted to be together, and when I read Madame Finikin's 
advertisement for a nice summer home for them, I knew Breezy- 
Point was just the place. And then the money, Aunt Debby, 
just think of that ! We can meet the payment on the mortgage 
in the fall all right. 

Aunt Debby. What a treasure you are, Elinor, and what a 
comfort you have been to me all these years ! 

Elinor. Sent to you market-fashion. Aunt Debby. I've 
pictured you many times finding me a little baby in a basket, at 
your door. Why. didn't you send me to the poorhouse ? 

Aunt Debby. Because, dear, when I pulled the blanket 
aside, you raised your tiny arms to me and smiled ; and from 
that moment, even before I lifted you from your rough nest, you 
had crept into my heart and I loved you. 

Elinor. I know it, Aunt Debby, I am sure of it, for I have 
never felt the loss of a mother's love, only 

Aunt Debby. Only you want to know who that mother was, 
dear, I understand ; but there was no mark but the name 
Elinor on your blanket. Then I called you Elinor Pearl, 
because you are the little pearl I found ! There was nothing 
to serve as a clue ; but you came from no poor place, Elinor, 
for your clothing was of the richest, finest quality. 

Elinor. Ah, why [Rises. 

Aunt Debby. There, there, child, dis*niss it from your 
mind. Eighteen years have gone since then, but some day I 
fearl that the mystery will be cleared, and in the meantime you 
have me, my dear. 

Elinor {throwing arms about her neck). Yes, I have you ! 
and I ought to be the happiest girl 

ASHRAEL {showing girls in C). Right this way. They've 
come, Miss Dexter. 

{Bus. for ASHRAEL examining girls curiously, tossing 
head at French maid, etc. 

Bernice. This is Miss Dexter, I presume. I am Bernice 
Vernon, and these young ladies are Clarice Fenleigh, Edith 
Norton and Laura Leigh. 

[Aunt Debby shakes hands with all of the girls as 
they are introduced. 

Aunt Debby, You are welcome to Breezy Point, and I 
hope you will be happy with us. This is my niece Elinor 
Pearl, and I am sure she joms me in bidding you welcome. 

Elinor. Indeed I do ! and I hope you will like this place 
one-half as well as we do. 

Bernice. I am sure we shall like it. 

Edith. We have been in ecstasies over the scenery all the 
way from the station. 



8 BREEZY POINT. 

Aunt Debby, And now, as you must be tired after your 
journey, you will want to go to your rooms at once. Ashrael, 
show the young ladies upstairs. 

Bernice (as the girls are going out). This is my maid, 
Miss Dexter. I hope it has not been too much trouble for you 
to accommodate her. 

Aunt Debby. None at all, my dear, we have plenty of room. 
(Ashrael shows them out h.) A bright, pretty lot of girls, 
Elinor ! Maybe it won't be so bad after all. 

Elinor. Of course it won't, Aunt Debby. You will be in 
love with every one of them before a week is over. {Laughing.) 
Oh, I know your soft heart ! 

Aunt Debby. At any rate, you occupy the softest place in 
it, my dear. 

Elinor. And I'm going to try and keep it, I give you fair 
warning ! But tell me, what can I do to help you ? 

Aunt Debby. Not a thing, only look after those girls, if 
they want anything. I am going to see if Bridget's getting on 
all right with the dinner, for 1 know they must be hungry. 

[£xit L. 

Elinor {folding newspaper, arra7tgiftg table, etc.). Dear 
Aunt Debby ! She is always thinking of other people, always 
trying to make them happy. Why, she even signed her home 
away to raise money to save a worthless brother from disgrace. 
Ah, well, he is dead and gone and so is the money, and I must 
try and use my wits, as well as my hands, to save this dear old 
place. {Dropping into chair L. of table.) What a terrible 
thing it is not to know your own name ! I wonder if I have a 
mother in this big world, and why she thrust me, a helpless 
child, among strangers. I look at the veins in my hands 
sometimes, and wonder whose blood flows in them. I look in the 
glass, and long to know if my face is like my mother's ; but, most 
of all, I want to feel that she was good and innocent ! And yet that 
doubt is always in my mind. {Buries face in hands, crying.) 
But I must stop thinking ! How wicked I am, and how it would 
grieve Aunt Debby to see me like this. {Rises.) I'll run up- 
stairs and bathe my eyes. {Sound of girls laughing merrily.) 
How happy they are, those girls ! And I'm going to be happy 
too! I'm not going to play the role of " Auntjs Doleful," and 
if I've one bit of energy in my nature it's time to assert it. 

\_Exit L., singitig, •' It's better to laugh than be sighing." 

Enter Ashrael, c. 

Ashrael. There ! I've got 'em located, lugged up hot 
water enough to drown 'em, an' now I'm to wait here, ready 
to be at their beck an' call, {sits by table) an' I'm a-goin' to do it 
cheerful, too, 'cause I said I would. That French maid jest 



BREEZY POINT. 9 

makes me sick ! I'll let her know she can't put upon me ! I'll 
try to do my level best for those girls, but that critter has jest 
got to keep out from under my feet ! There's one good thing 
about it, they all seem to like the place, an' their rooms suited 
'em to a T. I couldn't help lafifin' to hear 'em rave over the 
scenery. I never could see anything so aw^ful wonderful about 
old Mt. Prospect ; 'tain't nothin' but a mountin anyway ; and 
Lily Lake ain't much to look at, but they nearly had highstencks 
over it. I heard 'em a-plannin' to climb Blueberry Hill, to- 
morrer, to get a view. If they'd gone up tiiere berrym' as many 
times as I have, an' scratched themselves 'bout to death an' tore 
their clothes 'most off 'em, they wouldn't be in such a rush to 
try it. (Rises.) But that's always the way ! Folks that kas 
to do things don't want to. Goodness gracious ! there's that 
letter I got from Billy Griffin this mornin' in my pocket now, 
an' I hain't had time to read it. {Takes it out of pocket.) 
Billy's well enough in his place, but I'm lookin' higher than to 
marry a butcher. I'm goin' to aspire as long as I live ! I don't 
know what it'll amount to, but I'm goin' to be somethin' ; I 
hain't decided what yet. (Looks at letter.) Dreadful queer 
penman, Billy is. I hope he likes his place over to Greggsville. 
It was an awful relief to get him out of here. (Opens letter and 
reads to herself.) Yes, same old story ! He's fairly dyin' for 
love of me. (Reads.) " I shall shoot myself before the year is 
out if you do not consent to be my lawful wedded wife." He 
got that out of a book I lent him. (Reads.) <• My blood will be 
upon your head." His blood be upon my head. Well, I guess not ! 
What an idea ! I 'spose butchers always write kinder bloody. 
Goodness ! here's that French wriggler. (Puts letter in bosotn.) 
She makes me think of an angle worm. 

Enter Fantine, c. 

Fantine. Oh, you are here, Ashreel. 

ASHRAEL. Yes, there ain't no mistake about my bein' here! 
(Sits R. of table.) But Ash-reel ain't my name. 

Fantine. Oh, pardonnez moi. I thinks you said zat was 
your name. 

Ashrael. No, I didn't ! I said Ash, A-s-h. You got that? 

Fantine. Oui, Ash. 

Ashrael. No, we ain't Ash, I am. 

Fantine (laughing). Well zen. Ash. 

Ashrael. R-a — ra ; do, ra, like the scale, you know. 

Fantine. Ah, yes, ra. 

Ashrael. E-1 — the ell of a house, you know. Ash-ra-el ! 

Fantine. Ah, I haf it now — Ash-rah-eel ! 

Ashrael. For goodness' sake, don't you know nothin' 



lO BREEZY POINT. 

scarcely ? It jest gives me the shivers to hear my name said 
wrong. 

Fantine. Ah, nevare rhind such a leetle, small thing as 
zat ! You like zis place ? 

'ASHRAEL. Like it ? Why, I'm dead stuck on it ! I got my 
health here. 

Fantine. You were sick ? 

ASHRAEL. Well, I was boarding where there was a lot of 
old, helpless people, an' it kinder affected my nerves, so I 
came over here, an' my physician said I must help round, for 
piy health. I needed exercise. 

Fantine. It seems vera quiet here. 

ASHRAEL. Well, the band don't play every day, an' the 
streets ain't crowded. 

Fantine. I lofe ze town, where I can go to some dances an' 
meet some zhentlemens. 

Ashrael. Do you know how to waltz ? 

Fantine. I know how to waltz ? Like a leetle fairy ! 

Ashrael. I kinder want to learn to waltz. It might come 
handy. 

Fantine. I shall teach you. {Rises and goes stage centre.) 
Come here, Ashrael. (Ashrael ofi her right j Fantine rais- 
ing skirt.) Place your loot like zis. One! {K^nv^KEL places 
foot awktuardly.) Now, two! {Asn'B.A'EL imitates.) Three I 
Now take your skirts like zis an' follow me. "( Waltzing.) 'Tis 
vera easy. 

Ashrael {gasing at her). Well, if you think I'm going to 
hold my dress up like that, show my stockings an' go bobbing 
round like a five-cent top, you'll get left. I don't want to dance 
anyway ; it hain't dignified. [^Sits at table as before. 

Fantine. I lofe it! {Sits -l. of table.) Oh, Ashrael ! I 
breaks so many hearts. You have no- — what you call the sweet- 
hearts, here ? ' 

Ashrael. Nonsense ! the woods are full of 'em. 

Fantine. In ze woods ! What for do they go in ze woods ? 

Ashrael, Oh, I mean there is lots of 'em. Beaux to burn ! 
I'm bothered to death with 'em. 

Fantine. How lofely ! You shall gif some to me. 

ASHliAEL. Help yourself. 

Fantine. Tell me about zose sweethearts ! 

Ashrael. Well, as a nation, we don't brag much about our 
beaux. We kinder keep still about 'em. 

Fantine. And zat lettare, zat leetle billet-doux, I see you 
hide in your bosom, is zat from one of ze beaux ? 

Ashrael {aside). I'll bet that girl has got a row of eyes all 
round her head ; but for the land sake, how did she know his 
name was Billy ? 



BREEZY POINT. II 

Fantine. You speak not, but I see ze leetle ,blusl;i on your 
cheek ! Ah, tell me about ze lettare. 

ASHRAEL. Well, there ain't much to tell, {loftily) only the 
writer of it intends to shoot himself because I won't have him, 
that's all. 

Fantine. To shoot heemself ? How gr-r-and ! I should 
lofe to have a man shoot heemself for me. 

Ashra.el. I can't say I am fussy about it ; still if he's bound 
to do it, I can't prevent him. 

Fantine. Ceretainly not ! It would be vera nice. 

ASHRAEL. There's one thing certain, I sha'n't give up aspir- 
ing an' marry a man jest to keep the breath of life in him. 

Fantine. Geeve up wliat ? 

AsHRAEL. My high-born asperations. Don't you know 
what them be ? 

Fantine. No. Je ne comprend pas. 

ASHRAEL. Oh, talk United States ! 

Fantine. Pardonnez moi, I know not what you mean by 
asperasions. 

Ashrael. I mean that I'm goin' to be somethin' great 
sometime ; I don't know jest what ; I ain't decided. {Rocks 
"Violently.) I may be an opery singer, a dancer 

Fantine. No, no, I thinks not ! 

Ashrael. Or an actor. I can't tell. 

Fantine. Ah, you mean zat you will study to be some great 
artiste ? 

Ashrael. I don't know as I shall be an artist. I can't draw 
a barn. I might be a painter, for I painted the fence and it 
looked well ; still I can't tell. I don't know what turn my tal- 
ents will take. 

Fantine. Where is the man who, for you, will shoot heem- 
*self? 

Ashrael. He's over to Greggsville. He's comin' over to- 
morrer night, an' I'll interduce you if you want to see him. He 
ain't much to look at, but he's deep, awjul deep. 

Fantine. Ah, I shall be enchanted, fasceenated. 

Ashrael. You can try all your French tricks on him that 
you're a min' ter ; he won't even look at no girl but me. He 
says he's " loyal to the heart's core." I don't know how fur in 
that is, hut I guess it's pretty fur. 

Fantine. What is he's beesness ? 

Ashrael (rises and walks L.). Oh — he — he — dabbles in 
blood, cuts and slashes, you know. 

Fantine. Ah, I see, he is a doctor. 

Ashrael. Yes, he doctors calves, sheeps, pigs, an' the like, 
an' when he gets through with 'em they never have another 
pain. 



12 BREEZY POINT. 

Fantine {rising). He must be gr-r-and in hees profession 
— a vet-vet-erenerery surziion ! 

ASHRAEL {aside). Ain't she a greenhorn ! I'll put a flea 
in Billy's ear not to let on he's a butcher. {Aloud.) How long 
have you been livin' without work ? 

Fantine. What you say ? 

ASHRAEL. How long have you been a maid ? 

Fantine. Oh, tree year ; but not with Mademoiselle Vere- 
non only two month. Her maid got married an' I got ze posi- 
tion ; but I will get married also, when ze chance to me comes. 

ASHR ael. You'll have quite a chance to rest before it arrives, 
I reckon, 

Bernice {outside). Fantine ! Fantine ! 

Fantine. She is "calling to me. I will see you some more, 
when it is later,- Ash reel. [Exit c. 

ASHRAEL. Ashreel ! That makes me fightin' mad to hear 
her say it that way ; but it's no use tryin' to learn her anything, 
her head's thick as a board. Ain't she got a soft chance, 
though ! Jest to comb that girl's hair, hook up her dress, an' 
little jobs like that ; then she lives in the city, an' prob'ly she'll 
go across the water with her this fall. I heard 'em say some- 
thing 'bout it. I'd go with one meal a day the rest of my life, 
if I could go over there ! 

Enter Clarice, Laura and Edith, c. 

Laura. What time do we dine, Ashrael ? I believe that is 
your name ? 

Ashrael. Yes, miss, you've got it right, for a wonder. We 
dines jest as the clock strikes one. ^Exit L, 

Laura. "We " dines at one, do you hear ? Come on, girls, 
let's take a run over in the grove yonder ! Bernice is going ; 
she's getting ready now. 

Clarice. I do not think I'll go out, Laura, until after the 
sun goes down. My head is trying to ache and I'm pretty sure 
it will succeed if I give it half a chance, {sits on couch) but you 
go, Edith. 

Edith. No, I'll stay with you.. Run along, Laura, with Ber- 
nice, and find all the pretty nooks. We'll be with you to-mor- 
row, sure. 

Laura. All right ! Take care of your head, Clarice. 

Edith. And don't you fail to be here at one ! I'm hungry 
as a bear. 

Laura. " There are others ! " -Don't worry ; we'll be here. 

^ \Exii C. 

Edith (going back of couch and rubbing Clarice's head). 
I don't like these headaches ; they are by far too frequent. 



BREEZY POINT. 1 3 

Clarice. Well, as a steady diet, I think, myself, they are 
not satisfactory. 

Edith. Why, you aren't one bit lil<e the merry girl you were 
last year. I've wished a dozen times that you had gone abroad 
with your parents. Now, I was just crazy to go, but my folks 
didn't want me, and you were urged to go and wouldn't. All 
goes to prove that when you can have a thing, you don't want 
it, and when you can't you're crazy for it. 

Clarice. You're quite a philosopher, Edith ; but, seriously, 
I didn't go abroad because I hadn't the slightest interest in it. 

Edith {siding in chair L., near couch). You have no interest 
in anything, that's the trouble. Once you used to tell me 
everything that worried you, and now I know that something is 
on your mind and you won't tell me. "" It isn't like you, Clarice. 

Clarice. I suppose not ; nothing is like me that I say or do. 

Edith. You can't be worrying over your studies, for you 
are sure of graduating in a few months, and you are always at 
the head of your class. It isn't that you are in need of anything, 
for you are fairly loaded with the good things of this world. 
Then again it isn't that you are dissatisfied with yourself 
personally, for you are, most assuredly, the girl where, as 
Hamlet says, " every god did set his seal." It must be that 
you're in love, Clarice ; but why should that worry you ? You 
never yet smiled upon a masculine specimen that he didn't 
straightway become your slave. 

Clarice. I've made a fool of myself, Edith, and that's all 
there is about it ! 

Edith. I don't believe it, Clarice, you haven't the right 
material and you'd spoil in the making. But now, seriously, 
tell me truly, dear, what ails you, [sits on couch by Clarice) 
and maybe I'll find a way to help you. Just wait a minute. 
[Curls feet under her.) There ! Now just imagine we are in 
a play. The lights are down and the big fiddle goes zub, zub, 
zub, while you confide your secret to me. Maybe you are 
crossing the proverbial bridge before you come to it. 

Clarice. No, I am not ; I have got half-way over, and I' 
can't find my way back, and I won't go on. There's very little 
to tell, Edith, but maybe it would relieve me to speak of it. 

Edith. I am sure it would. Go on, dear. 

Clarice. Of course you know that Charlie Grierson wpnt 
away suddenly, last winter. 

Edith. What of that ? He'll come back. 

Clarice. Well, you don't know that I'd learned to care very 
much for him. 

Edith. No ! 

Clarice. Yes ; and matters had gone so far that he had 
asked me to marry him. 



14 BREEZY POINT. 

Edith. Oh, Clara ! And you ? 

Clarice. It was the night before our reception that he told 
me how — how much he cared for me, and I answered that I 
would give him his reply the nextnight, at the party. 

Edith. Yes, go on ! 

Clarice. Well, the next day I got a dear little note from 
him, nsking me to wear the flowers that he sent, if I wished to 
make him happy. Well, tiie box was filled with violets — beautiful 
English violets. I was so happy, dear, when I pinned them in 
my belt. I wore a bunch in my hair, too. 

Edith. I remember. They were lovely and so were you. 

Clarice. I had scarcely entered the hall when I saw him. 
He started toward me, then turned, like a flash, and left the 
room. I have never seen or heard one word from him since. 
I only learned that he had gone away. 

Edith. Oh, Clarice ! it was 

Clarice. It was shameful ! and I'll never get over it. 

Edith. There must have been some mistake. 

Clarice. How could there have been ? I had his note and 
the flowers, and I wore them at his request. . He just made me 
show my heart and laughed at me for it ! I hate 

Edith. No, you don't, dear, you know 

Enter Elinor, l., pulling Aunt Debby after her. 

Elinor [laughing). Come along ! I sha'n't let you go. 
You've got to rest, until Ashrael rings the dinner-bell. Every- 
thing is all right and {Discovers girls.) Oh, I didn't 

know you were here. I thought you had gone. out. 

Edith {rising). Bernice and Laura have gone, but I stayed 
in with Clarice. She has a headache. 

Aunt Debby {sitting at small table i..). Oh, that's too bad ! 
But don't you worry, dear, our mountain air will cure all your 
aches and pains. 

Elinor {laughing). If it doesn't. Aunt Debby will dose you 
with herb tea, until you will get well in self-defence. 

Aunt Debby. Now, Elinor ! that's hardly fair. I am 
sure 

Ashrael {looking iii c). Yes, she's here. You can walk 
right in. Mis' Hardscratch. Miss Dexter, here's some one to 
se« you. [Sho-ivs Mrs. Hardscratch /« and exit. 

Aunt Debby {rising). How do you do, Mrs. Hardscratch ? 
Come in. You look tired and warm. 

]Ji lie gives her the chair Jrom which she has risen. Aunt 
Debby sits l. of table t^., Elinor r. of it, Edith on 
arm of couch near CLARICE. 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Yes, it's awful hot in the sun, an' I've \ 



BREEZY POINT. I 5 

been berryin' over on Blueberry Hill. I thought you nnight 
want the berries, bein' as you've got a house full of folks, so I 
stopped here instid of cartin 'em home. 

Aunt Debby. Why, yes, I shall be very glad of them. 
Elinor, introduce the girls. 

Elinor {rising). Mrs. Hardscratch, these are the young 
ladies who are going to stay with us awhile, Miss Fenleigh and 
Miss Norton. 

Mrs. Hardscratch {rising and shaking hands ivitk girls). 
I'm glad to see you well. {To Aunt Debby.) Are these all 
there is of 'em ? 

Edith {laughing). No, Mrs. Hardscratch, there are more of 
us, but they aren't in. {Aside, to Clarice.) Isn't she a 
specimen ! 

Aunt Debby. How many berries did you bring us, Mrs. 
Hardscratch ? 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Four quarts good an' heapin'. I hid 
'em out under the stairs, as there's no trustin' hired help, nor 
no one else, for that matter. 

Clarice. I'm afraid you're a pessimist, Mrs. Hardscratch. 

Mrs. Hardscratch. No, I'm a Baptist, Free-will. Before 
we moved from the old Bill Smith place up to the farm, the 
deacon kept store : an' I tell you 'twas a sight to see a lot of men 
set 'round the store evenin's an' eat raisins, crackers, apples, 
anything they could lay hold of ! I soon cured 'em of it, though, 
for I soaked the crackers in kerosene, covered the raisins with 
cayenne pepper, an' set the apples where they couldn't get at 'em. 

Elinor {laughing). No one but you, Mrs. Hardscratch, 
would have thought of it. 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Well, when you have to think for two 
it will sharpen your wits. 

Edith. For two ? 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Yes, the deacon never had the head- 
ache from thmking too much, an' then he's so mealy-mouthed, 
he darsn't say his soul's his own. I knew it when I married 
him, an' if I hadn't felt sure of myself, I should never have 
undertaken the job. 

Clarice. Then you believe in the subjugation of man, Mrs. 
Hardscratch ? 

Mrs. Hardscratch, No, I don't exactly believe they came 
from monkeys, but I do believe you ought to keep 'em where 
they belong ! Give 'em an inch an' they'll take an ell. The 
deacon's little, but he's got the temper of a meat-axe. 

Elinor. Why, I should never have suspected it. He looks 
the mildest of men. 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Well, he'd ought to ; he's had twenty- 
five years' trainin'. I made up my mind, years ago, that if any 



l6 BREEZY POINT. 

one was goin' to look meek, I'd ruther it would be him than me. 
It all depends on the way you begin. 

Edith {to Clarice). Listen and be wise ! 

Clarice. Poor man !-^poor Deacon Hardscratch ! 

Mrs. Hardscratch [to Clarice). 'Pears to me you don't 
look very well. Kinder pindlin', aint' you ? 

Clarice. I am usually very well, Mrs. Hardscratch, but I 
have a headache to-day, that's all. 

Mrs. Hardscratch. All ? I should think that was enough! 
Why, I had two sisters, a cousin and an aunt die of headaches. 
I didn't know but what they would go through the whole family ; 
so I says to myself, " Somethin's got to be done to cure 'em, or 
there won't be none of us left to tell the tale." So I jest set to 
work an' made some medicine that'll cure headaches every 
time. It'll only cost you a dollar a bottle. Sha'n't I send you 
over a bottle 1 

Clarice. Thank you, Mrs. Hardscratch, I do not think I 
need medicine. I expect this air will make me quite strong, so 
you needn't trouble 

Mrs. Hardscratch. No- trouble at all. I'll send the 
deacon over with it to-night, on his way to meetin'. 

Edith {aside to Clarice). You're in for it ! 

Clarice. Did you ever hear anything like that ? 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Now that I'm here. Miss Dexter, I 
might as well ask you if you don't want some eggs. The hens 
are layin' like Jury now. 

Aunt Debby. Well, maybe 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Oh, you'll need 'em, for city folks are 
great feeders. I had some at our house one year, audit seemed 
to me I should never fill 'em up. 

Aunt Debby. We only hope they will like our country fare. 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Don't worry, they'll eat anything you 
set before 'em. Well, {rising) I s'pose I might as well be goin . 

Aunt Debby. Won't you stay and have some dinner, Mrs. 
Hardscratch ? 

Mrs. Hardscratch. Thank you, I don't care if I do, bein' 
as I'm here. The deacon took his dinner into the field, and the 
twins know where the vittles is, so they can hustle for them- 
selves ; so I guess, if you'll excuse me, I'll jest slip out to the 
sink an' wash my hands. \Exit L. 

Elinor. Oh, Aunt Debby, how could you ask her to 
dinner ! 

Aunt Debby. Why, my dear, I couldn't be rude. 

Edith {to Clarice). Just watch me eat ! I'll shock her. 

Enter Bernice, Laura ajid Old Clem, a gipsy, c. 
Bernice. We met this old gipsy woman down the road and 



BREEZY POINT. 1 7 

she says she tells fortunes. We didn't want Claire or Edith to 
miss having their fate revealed, so we asked her up to the 
house. 

Laura. Do you mind, Miss Dexter ? 

Aunt Debby. Not at all, my dear. This is Old Clem ; she 
is no stranger to us. 

Clem. I can tell the pretty ladies something they would like 
to know. 

Elinor. Yes, indeed, Clem is an old acquaintance. She 
has been here every summer for years ; but I haven't seen you 
for a long while, Clem. Why haven't you been up to Breezy 
Point ? 

Clem. A snake bit my foot and I've been lame. 

Elinor. A snake ? 

Clem. Well, you folks call it rheumatiz. 

Edith. Don't you get very tired of camp life ? 

Clem (C). No, I love it ! I hate the houses ! I should suf- 
focate under a roof. Shall I tell your fortune, lady ? Cross the 
poor old gipsy's hand with silver. 

[ ASHRAEL ringing dinner-bell. 

Elinor. There's the dinner-bell. I'm afraid you won't have 
time to have your fortunes told now, girls. Why can't we go 
down to the camp to-night ? 

Bernice. Oh, yes, that would be much better. 

Aunt Debby {at door L.). Dinner is ready ; right this way, 
please. 

Bernice {to Elinor, as they go out). You tell her to expect 
us after supper. {Exit girls, \^. 

Elinor. You heard me promise to take the girls down to- 
night, didn't you, Clem ? 

Clem. Yes, I heard. 

Elinor. And I'll bring you a basket of food and a bottle of 
currant wine. 

Clem. Bless your bright eyes ! 

Elinor. And you'll tell my fortune, too, this time, won't 
you ? You know I've often coaxed you. 

Clem. No ! but I'll tell theirs, good or bad. I'll take their 
money. I hate their high an' haughty ways, curse 'em ! I 
hate 'em root an' branch ! \Up c. 

Elinor {up l. hands to ears). Oh, don't, Clem ! 

Clem {^patting her head). There, there, I didn't mean to 
hurt your pretty ears. 

Elinor. You will tell my fortune to-night, won't you ? 

Clem. No, I tell you ! You're better off not to hear it, 
better off ! {Exit c. Elinor looking after her. 

CURTAIN. 



BREEZY POINT. 



ACT II. 



SCENE. — A camp in the woods. Six weeks later. Kitchen 
table up R. C. If convenient, a tent should be used up R., the 
entrance visible. A couple of rustic benches, chairs and 
camp-stools scattered about stage. ASHRAEL discovered at 
table, washing dishes. ¥ PibiTia^ on her right, wiping them. 

Fantine, This is not ze work I was to do when Made- 
moiselle Verenon asks of me to be her maid ! 

ASHRAEL. 'T won't hurt you I reckon. Folks can't camp 
out, unless some one does the work, an' you was tickled as 
could be when you found out we was goin' to live a spell out 
doors. 

Fantine. I thought me it would be vera romantic ; but the 
flies do bite me and the sun does spoil my face. 

A"SHRAEL. I reckon they won't eat you ! You'll have face 
enough left, don't worry ? Where did you sneak to last night, 
after dark ? I couldn't find you nowhere. 

Fantine. I heard somebody's call, in a vera queer voice, to 
whip a boy, by the name of Will, and I went to find him. 

ASHRAEL. Well, greenie, that was a bird. Night before 
last I hunted for you, an' you's nowhere to be found. You're 
as slippery as an eel. 

Fantine. I went to look at ze moon. 

ASHRAEL, Because there was a man it it, I suppose. You 
must have liked the looks of him', cause you's gone two hours. 
I jest thought you'd gone down to the village to see that feller 
that works in Brown's grocery store. You've been cuttin' up 
like sixty sence I interdooced you to a few fellers. You act as 
though you never saw one before, an' you was afraid some of 
'em would get away ; but you've found one that don't run after 
you, an' that's Billy Griffin. 

Fantine. Billee is vera quiet. 

ASHRAEL. 'Course lie is ! When a feller's been in love five 
years, an* hain't got no encouragement, he ain't apt to be very 
frisky. There ! them dishes are done now, thank goodness ; 
an' I'm goin' to lay down, under some tree, en' read " The 
Pirate's Bride." I left her hangin' over a precipice, an' he was 
runnin' might an' main, to save her. 

Fantine. Oh. read zat to me, Ashreel ! 

ASHRAEL. Come along. I'll make your eyes stick out, an* 
give you the shivers so you won't sleep lor a week. 

[ASHRAEL and Fantine exeunt L. 



BREEZY POINT. 1 9 

Enter Laura, Bernice and Edith, r. 

Laura {laughing). I tell you, Edith, it's a sight to see the 
way Bernice chases folks with her camera ! 

[Edith on camp-stool L., Laura and Bernice on 
rustic betic/i R. 

Bernice. Well, didn't I get some beauties, this morning? 

Laura. Yes, she even went down to the blacksmith's and 
caught him shoeing a horse. But where is Clarice ? 

Edith. Oh, she's been gone all the morning, sketching an 
old mill that she discovered last week. Elinor, went with her. 
I say, isn't she the dearest girl, you ever saw ? 

Laura. Who ? 

Edith. Why, Elinor, of course. 

Bernice. Yes, she makes me ashamed of myself every hour 
in the day, she is so unselfish. I wish I could do something for 
her ; but goodness ! she's so proud about anything like that, I 
wouldn't dare mention it. 

Edith. I'd give a good deal if I could sing as she can I 

Bernice. She has a marvellous voice, and here I am, with 
just an ordinary, every day kind of a voice, going abroad this 
fall to study. 

Laura. Don't underrate yourself, Miss ! You know that you 
sing like a nightingale. 

Edith. Bernice knows it. 

Bernice. I do not. I know that I've studied for three years 
and there isn't one-half the melody in my voice that Elinor has 
in hers ; and here I am, without a relative, throwing money 
away on myself all of the time, when I'd be so happy to give that 
girl a chance to study. 

Edith. You have such a big heart that you may find it 
troublesome, one of these days, Bernice. 

Bernice. Never fear ! My heart is engaged to Mr. Am- 
bition and they are going to live in peace and unity. 

Edith. And Laura's parents have really consented to 
allow her to go abroad with you ? 

Bernice. Yes, and I am going to dose that lazy girl with 
enthusiasm three times a day before meals, as the prescriptions 
read, and you may expect to hear a violiniste, when she comes 
back, who will make you all proud to say: "Ah, yes, I wentto 
school with her at Madame Finikin's ! " 

Laura {rising). Do keep still, Bernice ! I sha'n't amount to 
a row of pins, I know I never shall. But here are the truants, 
chattering like magpies. 

Enter Clarice and Elinor, r. 
Clarice. Ah, girls, we've had the greatest time ! Rode on 
a load of hay ! 



20 • BREEZY POINT. 

Edith. Oh, dear ! and I missed it. 

Clarice. I should say so ! You see I had sketched the mill 
all right and we were coming back to camp by the road, when 
we met — who was it, Elinor ? 

Elinor. Mr. Drake with a load of hay. 

Clarice. And who do you think was with him, Edith ? 

Edith. His freckled hired hand, I suppose. 

Clarice. No, Miss. Dick Coleman, who was sweet on you 
last year. 

Edith. Dick here ? I thought he was in the Adirondacks ! 
Where is he staying ? Did he know I was here ? Shall we see 
him ? 

Clarice. One at a time, please. 

Laura. Edith is just like a phonograph ; when she gets 
wound up, she just 

Edith. Do keep still ! Clarice, why don't you tell me ? 
You're the most provoking girl ! Elinor, you answer me. 

Elinor. Well, Dick, as you call him, is here, surely, 
and 

Clarice. Let me answer every other question. He has 
been in the Adirondacks, but some magnet drew him up 
among these hills. Go on, Elinor, it's your inning. 

Elinor. And he's staying at Mr. Drake's, two miles from 
here. 

Clarice. And he asked for you. 

Elinor. And he's coming to take you for a drive, later. 

Edith. How perfectly lovely ! 

Bernice. I never saw such a little goose, Edith ! 

Edith. Oh, you can just go and split your throat singing, 
but I'd rather hear Dick whisper three words, than all the 
Italian things you can learn in a year. 

Laura. There's honesty for you ! 

Aunt Debby {appearing R.). Girls we are out of milk. 
Some one must go over to Mrs. Hardscratch's and get some. 

Bernice. Come, Laura, we will go. Clarice and Elinor 
are tired, and Edith wouldn't know if she were sent for milk, 
or cheese. {Looking off R.) But who is coming down the 
path .^ I do believe they are the Hardscratch twins, for they 
are as alike as two peas. 

Elinor {looking). Yes, here are the twins, spick span clean, 
in their new aprons. 

Enter Bethia and Sophia Hardscratch, 
.with can and ti^i-pail, R. 

Elinor. Halloo, girls ! what have you brought us ? 
Bethia. Some milk. 



BREEZY POINT. 21 

Sophia. Yes, milk. 

Bernice. We were just going over to your house for some 
and you've saved us a long walk. 

Elinor. But what's in the pail ? {Takes pail and catt, 

Bethia. Butter. 

Sophia. Jest butter. [Elinor exit r. 

Laura. Sit down ; you look tired. 

Bethia. It's awful hot ! 

Sophia. Awful ! {They sit R. 

Edith. And echo answers 

Clarice. Keep still, Edith, you'll frighten them and I want 
to hear them talk. Take your sun-bonnets off and I'll give you 
some of the milk to drink. 

Bethia. Oh, we never drink that kind. Mother skims it 
on purpose for you. 

Sophia. Yes, on purpose for you. 

Bernice. I read in ancient history once, that children and 
fools are noted for their veracity. 

Laura. What makes your mother take so much trouble 
lor us ? 

Bethia. .^ She said city folks wasn't used to good milk and it 
would make 'em sick. 

Sophia. Awful sick ! 

Clarice. Thoughtful soul ! 

Bernice. What's your name, bright eyes ? 

Bethia. Bethia Maria Hardstratch. 

Laura. And yours, curly-locks. 

Sophia. No, it hain't Curly-locks, It's jest Sophia Zeniah 
Hardscratch. 

Edith. Simply that and nothing more. 

Bethia. Mother's awful glad you're campin' out, 'cause 
Miss Dexter don' keep hens and cows, an' mother says she'll 
make a lot of money out of you. 

Sophia. Lots of money. 

Bethia. You've got fixed up real nice out here, hain't you ? 
It's ever so much nicer than stayin' in doors. I jest hate goin' 
to school ! 

Sophia. Hate it ! 

Laura. That's naughty. {Recites in high-pitched mono- 
tones.) "You should love your teachers fond and true, and 
help them all you can, Some little act each day should do — 
should do ■ Some one help me, can't you ? 

Bethia. Humph! I don't believe _yo«'(^ like to go to school, 
if all the boys called you twinsey. 

Sophia. Yes, jest hollered "twinsey." 

Bethia. And said your pa was hen-pecked. 

Sophia. Hen-pecked ! Jimmy True said that, and L jest told 



22 BREEZY POINT. 

him 'twan't no such thing, for Bethia an me got all the eggs 
and pa didn't go near the hens. 

Edith. Wise man ! Keep away from the hens. 

Bethia. Pa's awful good, an' said -lie was sorry for you, 
'cause ma was jest roastin' you. 

Sophia. Yes, he did say it ; roastin' you ! 

Bernice. Oh, Where's my camera ? I must get a snap-shot at 
the twins ! 

Laura. Even the innocence of childhood escapeth not ! 

\£xti Bernice r. 

Sophia. What's she gone to fetch ? 

Edith. A camera. Wait, she's going to take your 
picture. 

Re-enter Bernice with camera. 

Sophia. Won't it go off ? 

Bernice. Not very far. Now you must hold still, or you'll 
spoil the picture. You mustn't move a bit. 

Bethia. If I should wiggle my toe in my shoe, would it 
spoii the picture ? 

Bernice, Sure! Now, then, smile a little. (They grin.) All 
right ! You come down in a few day and I'll show it to you. 

Bethia. Is that all there is to it ? 

Sophia. All there is ? 

Bernice. Yes. 

Bethia. Humph ! it didn't hurt a bit. 

Laura. That's because you didn't move. 

Bethia. I didn't do nothin'. 

Sophia. I bit my tongue, will that show ? 

Bernice. No, I won't let it. 

Bethia. Come on, Sophia, we must go now, or mother'll 
say we stayed long enough to tell everything we know, an* I 
hain't told half, have you ? 

Sophia. No, not half! Hain't told how eggs is fell to 
eighteen cents a dozen, nor how mother dropped the butter 
out of the pail an' scraped it, nor nothin*. 

Laura. That's right, don't tell ! {Girls laugh.) Here's a 
bag of candy for you. {Gives candy to Bethia.) Come again. 

All. Good-bye. 

Bethia and Sophia. Good-bye. 

Laura. You don't have to go on the lake for an echo. 

Aunt Debby enters r. with luork-baskei 
and stockings to darn. 

Bernice.. Here, Aunt Debby, take this seat. I'm glad 



BREEZY POINT. 23 

you're going to sit down. (Aunt Debby sits up C.) For I'm 
afraid this camping trip is making you a lot of work. 

[Girls all sit around her, 

Clarice. How good it was of you to let us come ! 

Aunt Debby. Why, my dear girls, I've enjoyed every 
moment of it. 

Edith. It has been a happy summer. 

Laura. There hasn't been one thing to mar our pleasure, 
not one ! 

Edith [aside). None of them know how Clare's heart 
aches, and how she tries to hide it. 

Bernice, It's worth a good deal to know your future, and 
old Clem has told us just what to expect. Laura, every time I 
look at at you and think you're going to have three husbands, 
I can forgive anything you may do. Just think ! one commits 
suicide, another gets a divorce and the third runs away ! 

Laura. Well, you aren't going to have any, miss ! 

Bernice. For which I am duly thankful. Edith's going to 
marry the first man who asks her, and Clarice, poor girl, has got 
to go through fire and water, before she "lives in grease and 
dies in peace, and is buried in a pot of cream." 

Enter Elinor, r. with pan of pop-corn, 

Elinor {calling). Hot popped corn ! popped corn ! 

Clarice. You're an angel, Elinor ! Here, set the pan in 
front of us, and we'll eat, while Aunt Debby darns. (Elinor 
sets pan in C. ; all sit around it.) Doesn't it seem strange to 
have such a lot of harum-scarum girls, calhng you- "Aunt 
Debby " ? . 

Aunt Debby. It pleases me more than I can tell you, 
child. 

Elinor. Aunt Debby's heart is fairly bubbling over with 
love ; and it would be a pity to have any of it go to waste ; so 
it's lucky you are where you can catch it as it falls. 

Laura. A pretty metaphor, Elinor, but if you go on like 
that, you'll have a headache. 

Bernice. You must remember, my dear, that some people 
can stand a mental strain, that would kill other?.. Now, don't 
try to answer me ! Your mouth is too full of corn. 

Edith {looking off r.). Oh, I say, girls, there is the funniest 
looking woman I ever saw coming this way ! 

Aunt Debby. Who can it be, I wonder. [Girls rise. 

Elinor {looking). No one I've ever seen before. 

Laura. She looks as if her clothes had been thrown at her 
and caught on here and there, just as it happened. 

Clarice. Look at her baggage ! She has come to stay, 
wherever she is going. 



24 BREEZY POINT. ' 

Elinor. Stand back, girls, here she comes ! 

\Girls fall back. 

£nier Mekitibl^ Doolittle, r. S/te carries an old-fashioned 
carpet-bag, hand-satchel, band-box and umbrella. 

Mehitible. Wall, I swan ! if I hain't run right into a 
camp. 

Aunt Derby {rising). Don't be startled, my good woman, 
we are quite harmless. Have you lost your way ? 

Mehitible. You've hit it now. I got off the cars an' 
thought I'd cut across lots to Deacon Hardscratch's an' I run 
right into this ere place. 

Elinor. Sit down and rest yourself. 

Aunt Debby. Yes , you look tired. Bring her a glass of 
lemonade, Elinor. [Exit Elinor r. 

Mehitible {sits r.). I run ! I never was so beat out in my 
life. Do you know the Hardscratches, marm ? 

Aunt Debby, Oh, yes, they are near neighbors of ours, and 
you are only a short distance from their house. The twins 
were here only a little while ago. 

Mehitible. Want to know if the twins was here ! Bright 
as buttons, ain't they ? I'm Mrs. Hardscratch's sister, Mehitible 
Doolittle. 

Aunt Debby Oh, yes, I've heard her speak of you often. 

Mehitible. I writ her I was comin' over from Peakville, a 
week ago ; but I had a lot of salve to box, an' couldn't get away 
a minit sooner. Be these girls all yours ? 

Aunt Debby. No, they are spending the summer with me, 
and we came here to camp for a little outing. 

Enter Elinor, r., with lemonade, which Mehitible drinks 

eagerly. 

Mehitible. Thank you ; that touches the right spot. 

Clarice {offeritig fan). Perhaps you'd like a fan. Miss Doo- 
-ttle. 

Mehitible. Wall, I don't care if I do. I was pretty nigh 
unsettled before I took the cars, for I'd been packin yarbs all 
the mornin' an' the sun was scorchin,' So you're campin' out ? 
I never could see any fun in it. Jest give me a good feather-bed 
when night comes. 

Aunt Debby. We have found it very pleasant. We came 
to these woods because we could get some of the provisions 
from your sister's farm. 

Mehitible. Want to know if Samanthy's lettin' you have 
supplies ! That'll be a reg'lar picnic for her. • 

Edith {to Clarice). Evidently she knows Samanthy's little 
weakness. 



BREEZY POINT. 25 

Mehitible. Yes, she's got a master-head for business, 
Samanthy iias, an' it's got to be mighty poor pickin' when she 
don't make money. 

Aunt Debby. Yes, Mrs. Hardscratch is a very thrifty woman, 

Mehitible. The deacon, poor critter, I kinder pity him ! 

Bernice {lo Laura). So do I ! 

Mehitible. I ham't seen him for two years. His hair was 
thinnin' out awful fast, an' he had a terrible meachin' look, that 
spoke for itself 

Edith (to Clarice). That was evidently while she was " a 
trainiu' him." 

Mehitible. Samanthy was quite set up when she ketched 
the deacon, for none of us had any idea she'd ever marry ; but 
somehow or nuther the Doolittles all got married, sooner or 
later. 

Aunt Debby. And yet you are single. 

Mehitible. Wall, I shan't be long. 

Bernice {to Laura). " Lives there a man with heart so 
dead ? " 

Aunt Debby, Well, I hope your choice will be a wise one, 
Miss Doolittle. Your sister told me you were quite a nurse ; 
that you manufactured bitters, ointments, tonics, and the like. 

Mehitible. La, yes, I make 'em by the gallon. Ain't any 
ot you troubled with rheumatiz, be you ? I've got a liniment 
that will cure it quicker'n you can say "Jack Robinson." 

Aunt Debby. Mrs. Hardscratch makes medicine, too. 
She sent one of the girls a bottle of it. 

Clarice. The cat knocked the bottle over, lapped some of 
it, and died in spasms. 

Mehitible. Too bad it was wasted on the cat ! 

Edith. Yes, wasn't it a shame ? 

Mehitible. You speak as if you had catarrh. Now let me 
tell you something about my catarrh snuff. Elder Snilkins, 
down to the Centre, had catarrh so't he'd sneeze an' blow, an' 
sneeze, until he'd get every one in the meetin'-house a-blowin' 
too ; an" he couldn't beat religion into them critters to save his 
lil'e. Hadn't no voice at all, scarcely. Of course, M'hen he 
found his voice goin', he'd beat the pulpit with his fist all the 
harder ; then the dust would fly an' set him to sneezin', like a 
cat that had stuck her nose into cayenne pepper — only the 
elder'd sneeze so loud he'd make the shandyleers tremble. 
Willi, one day I persuaded him to try a box of my snuff, an' he 
hadn't taken six boxes before his head was clear as a bell, an' 
he could holler like a loon. 

Bernice. Poor man ! how grateful he must have been ! 

Mehitible. Yes, he seemed to be, an' said seein' as how I'd 
done so much for him, if I was willin' to undertake the job of 



26 BREEZY POINT. 

doctorin' his seven children, all of 'em bein' pindlin', he'd marry 
me. 

Laura. So the elder proposed ! 

Mehitible. Yes ; he said I could keep right on makin' 
bitters, salves, an' such, an' as last as the children took sick, I 
could try it on 'em, an' if it cured 'em I should have a free con- 
science to sell it to other people. 

Elinor. And what if it killed them ? 

Mehitible. Then they'd be buried 'longside of their mother, 
poor things ! The elder has a beautiful corner lot. [^Sighs. 

Laura. And when is the wedding to be, Miss Doolittle ? 

Mehitible. In about four weeks. I came down to Saman- 
thy's to make the cake. She'll be dretful surprised, for she 
didn't mistrust a thing about it. {Rising.) Wall, I might as 
well be pokin' along. Hope I shan't get lost again. 

Aunt Debby. Wait a minute, Miss Doolittle, we will see if 
we can't find Ashrael. She will show you the way. Elinor, 
just blow that horn, and if she's anywhere about, she'll hear 
you. I don't see where she can be ! [Elinor blows horn. 

Laura. I met her and Fantine, just as Bernice and I were 
coming in ; they can't be far. 

Bernice. I am afraid I shall have to get rid of Fantine when 
I leave here. She is a perfectly useless appendage and never 
about when I want her. 

Enter Ashrael and Fantine, out of breath, r. 

Aunt Debby. Where in the world did you hide yourself, 
Ashrael ? I have wanted you several times. 

Ashrael. I was down by the spring, readin' to Fantine. I 
tried to have her run up to camp, to see if you wanted any- 
thing, but she was so scairt at Black Donald's ghost, she 
wouldn't stir an inch. 

Bernice. Who's ghost ? 

Ashrael. Oh, jest in the book miss ! 

Fantine. Oh, it was terreeble ! A ghost who was all bones ! 

Laura. Did you expect him to look fat and healthy ? 

Bernice. Don't fill her foolish head with any more such tales, 
Ashrael. 

Ashrael. All right, miss, I didn't know she was so weak in 
the brain. 

Aunt Debby. Ashrael, this is Mrs. Hardscratch's sister. 
Show her where she lives. She has lost her way. Go as far as 
Lover's Lane ; she can see the house there. 

Ashrael. Yes'm. Right this way. [Going L. 

Mehitible. I'm turrible obleeged to you for your perliteness. 

Aunt Debby. Don't mention it. Come down and see us 
again. 



BREEZY POINT. 27 

Mehitible. I'll try to, an' if any of you come this way another 
year, jest drive over to Peakville Centre, an' call on Mrs. Elder 
Snifkins. 

Laura. Thank you, Miss Doolittle ; we'll surely come. 

Edith. Indeed we will ! 

Elinor. I liope you'll cure the elder's children ? 

Clarice. Yes, and be happy with the elder. 

All. Good-bye ! 

Mehitible. Good-bye ! [Exi^ with Ashrael. 

Bernice. That's a character study for you, girls. 

Laura. The queerest we've seen yet. 

Bernice. Fantine, you may mend my serge skirt. I am go- 
ing boating after tea and shall need it. 

Fantine. Vera well, mademoiselle. {Aside.) I shall not 
prick my fingers vera long for you. \^Exit r. 

Edith. Well, I'm oft to beautify myself for my drive with 
Dick. 

Clarice. Don't make yourself too lovely. 

Edith. No danger. I wish you were going too, Clare. 

Clarice. There, there, don't fib. 

Edith. I'm not fibbing ! You won't get blue, will you ? 

Clarice. Don't worry, dear ; haven't you seen how I've 
been " cutting up," as Ashrael says. 

Edith {arm about her). I know you are trying to be a 
brave little girl, and 

Laura. No secrets, Edith ! Remember, you are going to 
tell us all Dick says when you get back. 

Edith. Of course, every word. 

Laura. No cheating. 

Edith. " Honest and true ; cross myself." \Exit R. 

Bernice. She grows prettier every day. 

Aunt Debby. She's a dear, thoughtful child. There, Elinor, 
the stockings are mended. Now, if you'll hand me that pan of 
apples {pointing off stage R.) I'll pare a few for an apple- 
float while I sit here. 

\Exit Elinor, R., returning with apples. 

Laura. You are never idle a moment. Aunt Debby. 

Bernice. How can she be idle ? Look at the hungry girls 
she has to feed. 

Elinor. I can just tell you if you didn't have good appe- 
tites. Aunt Debby would feel personally injured. 

Aunt Debby. Nothing pleases me more than 

\Screain heard outside. Old Clem shouting, " Run, ye 
imps of Satan / If I had my hands on ye, I'd throttle 
ye like vermitt, as ye are ! " She staggers on L. with 
bundle of baskets, her arm bleeding. 
Girls. It's the old gipsy ! 



2.8 BREEZY POINT. 

Aunt Debby {rising). And she's hurt ! 

Elinor. Poor old Clem ! Your arui is bleeding-. {Leads 
her to seat, R.) Who hurt you ? 

Clem. Those boys, the black-hearted little torments,, 
stretched a string across my path, then hid and watched me fall. 

Bernice. What a shame ! 

Girls. How cruel ! 

Elinor. I will bathe your arm, Clem. It must hurt you badly. 
[Exit r., returning with basin of water, sponge and 
bandage, and dresses arm. 

Aunt Debby. Those boys should be punished for doing a 
thing like that. [Exit R, 

Clarice. That's not sport ! 

Laura. It's sheer cruelty. 

Bernice. Let me take your baskets. \Places them up L. 

Clem. Oh, I'd like to wmd my fingers round their throats, 
I'd 

Elinor {bandaging arm). There, there, don't get so angry, 
Clem ! 

Clem. Angry ? It isn't the arm that hurts, that's nothing. 
It's the feeling here, {hand Ofi heart) they give me, those rich 
men's sons ! I'd like to see 'em beg from door to door, starving, 
freezing ! 

Elinor. Oh, Clem, don't ! 

Clem. I'd crush 'em, like worms under my heel, an' I'd rack 
their bones with pain, 'till they'd cry for mercy. Curse 'em ! 
When did they ever try to do a kindness for me ? They laugh 
and jeer at me, and throw rocks at me ! Nobody cares for old 
Clem, but she can make 'em rue this day, if she is old ! Snakes 
shall bite 'em and wasps sting 'em ! 

Elinor. I care for you, Clem, and I'd do anything for you. 
We'll buy all your baskets and 

ClJEU {bursting ijtto tears). Don't! don't! 

Aunt Debby {entering R. with glass of wine). Here, my 
poor woman, drink some wine, you are trembling with ex- 
haustion. 

Elinor {giving her glass). Yes, do drink it ! I am sure it 
will make you better. {Going L.) Now, girls, select your 
baskets. Aren't they pretty ? 

Bernice. Let us see how many there are. Aunt Debby 
must have this for her mending. 

Clem {talking to herself). She dressed that bony old arm, 
with her white fingers. She wasn't afraid of the old gipsy's 
blood, and she said that she cared for me. 

Clarice. Clem's talking to herself. 

Elinor. Yes, she's getting quiet. Don't notice her. 

Clem. Nobody's said that for years. 



BREEZY POINT. 29 

Bernice {smelling baskets). How fragrant this sweet grass 
is ! 

Elinor. You must accept this for your handkerchiefs. 

Clem [becoming delirious). Is that you calling, Harry ? 
I hurried from camp, as fast as I could. What makes you look 
so grave, dear ? Sit at my feet with your head in my lap and 
let me stroke your curls. Light, sunny curls, I love them so ! 

Bernic^. She's mumbling to herself yet. 

Elinor. She's very weak to-day. 

[Girls talk dt{ring Clem's soliliqiiy. 

Clem [moaiiing). Oh, Harry ! your father said that ? No, 
no lad, I'll never ruin your life. Don't ask me ! They can take 

you from the poor gipsy girl, but I — I 

[Head sinks on breast. 

Aunt Debby {going to her and trying to rouse /z^r). Clem ! 
Clem ! come into the tent and lie down. You're ill, I fear. 

Clem. No, I — I'm allright. 

Elinor [assistiftg her to rise). Please go in and rest, just to 
please me, won't you ? 

Clem. What does it matter to you ? 

Elinor. Very much. It hurts me to see you like this, 
Clem. 

Clem. And the sight of your face, the sound of your voice, 
hurts me worse than the rocks they throw at me. [Going.) 
Yes, I'll go to please you, I'll go. [Exit R., Elinor leading her. 

Clarice. What an influence Elinor has over that old 
woman ! 

Aunt Debby. She has known her for years and could always 
make her do anything. When she was a little girl, Clem would 
come up to Breezy Point and sit watching her at play, for 
hours. And once, when Elinor was sick, she wouldn't leave 
the house and acted like an insane woman. 

Bernice. Then Elinor has- lived with you since she was a 
child ? 

Aunt Debby. Yes. 

Laura. Are both her parents dead ? 

Aunt Debby. I'm the nearest relative she has. [Exit R. 

Laura. I'll wager there's some mystery about Elinor. 

Clarice. Life is full of them. 

Bernice. There have been more facts than fancies in my 
life, at any rate. 

Laura. Poor girl ! You have had some sad experiences, 
haven't you ? 

Bernice [gratiely). A few, dear. 

Laura. I often think what a shock it must have been to you 
to find yourself practically alone in a strange city with a sick 
father. How long did he live after you landed ? 



30 BREEZY POINT. 

Bernice. Three months, three precious months, for he 
gave - me counsel in those few weeks to direct me all my 
life. 

Clarice. And haven't you any relatives in this country, 
Bernice, not one ? 

Bernice. Not any, dear, nor in the wide world, except an 
uncle in England, wiiom I have never seen. But then, you 
know, my guardian was papa's friend and he is very kind to 
me. 

Laura. And then you have loads of money — and there's me ! 
I'm going to stick to you like grim death, for I haven't any 
sister and my mother has so many clubs and societies to attend 
that I always feel as if 1 were trespassing on her time when I 
am at home. I'm sure she'll find it pretty hard to be quaran- 
tined while Jack has scarlet fever. 

Bernice {embracing her). A girl couldn't be very lonely 
who had you. Only you'll be falhng in love one of these days, 
and leaving me. 

Laura. Never ! we'll be girl bachelors and keep an ideal 
hall. But come on, let's interview the speckled beauties in 
Bow Brook. 

Bernice. There is no bait. 

Laura. I'll dig some. I'm not a bit afraid of those nasty, 
wriggling worms now, and I take positive delight in stringing 
them on a hook. {Picks up iojnato-can.) Here's the bait-box. 
Just come and watch me. Aren't you coming, Clarice ? 

Clarice. No. I've letters to write, and then, I always scare 
the fish. 

Bernice. Well, we'll catch a trout for your supper, then. 

Laura. Yes, I'll bring you a half-pounder. 

YExeunt Laura and Bernice l. 

Clarice. They're as good as gold, those girls ! Oh, there's 
the sound of carriage wheels ! [Looks off R<^ Ves, Dick has 
come for Edith. How pretty she looks in that blue gown and 
hat with pink roses ! Dick has won her heart, there's no doubt 
about that. I hope he can be trusted with it ! (Sits R.) I 
should be sorry to see her make such an idiot of herself as I 
have done ! Dick was Charlie Griersan's sworn chum. I 
wonder if he knows his whereabouts. Nonsense! here I am 
again, wasting my thoughts on a man I ought to hate ! But 
it's no use. I never eat an apple but I find myself saving the 
seeds and saying ; " One, I love," and ail that folderol. This 
very morning, I picked a daisy, and, before I knew it, I was 
counting the petals. {J?ises.) Clarice Fenleigh, you're a little 
fool, and you've got to stop such actions ! Now I'll go and 
write a letter to my mother, and tell her how happy I am ; and 
I'll make her believe it if I don't. [Exi^ R. 



BREEZY POINT. 3 I 

Enter Fantine, l., with valise, hat, and jacket, looking 
catttious/y aroic7id. 

Fantine. They haf all gone, and I shall work no more. 
You can leenish to sew your skirt yourself, Mademoiselle Vere- 
non ! I shall nevare thread some needles for you some more. 
Let me see what zey is all about. {Looks off R.) Ze old lady 
and her niece are some berries peeking ofer, and zey haf a half 
pan yet to peek. I know zey old geepsy is asleep, for I did 
hear her snore with her nose. My meestress and her friend haf 
gone, with a shovel, to deeg some worms out of the ground, and 
Mees Fenleigh is writing. I must hurry myself, lor I shall haf 
only the time to lose Ashreel and get to the veelage. [Takes 
letter from pocket and pins it on tree up R.) Mees Ashreel 
Grant, zere is a lettare for you, and you will nevare say some 
more zat I haf no brains inside my head. {Puts on hat:) Let 
me see if haf forgot sometings. {Looks in valise.) How vera 
bright in me to get my wages for ze month, last night ! I tells 
mademoiselle I wants to buy me some shoes. Yes, everyting I 
shall need me is here. Zey will be surprised vera mooch to 
find me when I am gone. Ah, zey think I am vera — what zey 
call ze color of ze leaf? Ah, oui, green 1 but I knows some- 
tings, or two. Now I am ready to say good-bye, but I shall 
wheesper it, so no ones shall hear me. 

[Throivs kiss mockingly to R., waves handkerchief and 
exit L., cautiously. 

Enter Elinor, r. with large basket, places it up L. 

Elinor. There ! Clem mustn't forget her basket when she 
goes back to camp. Poor old woman ! she was worn out. I 
fear she is failing. What a life she leads ! But there is one good 
thing about it, there is not one of the tribe but fear her, and so 
she is treated well. They think she has the power of casting an 
evil spell over any one, and that the fairies, good and bad, obey 
her will. {Looks off L.) Here comes Ashrael ; I was just 
thinking it was time she returned. 

Enter Ashrael, l., reading aloud. 

Ashrael. " ' Advance another step and you lie dead at my 
feet ! ' said Gwendoline, and as siie looked into those dark, 
burning eyes, the white jewelled hand that held the revolver, 
dropped lifelessly at her side." Pshaw ! she hadn't the spunk of 
a mouse. These folks that are always threatenin' to shoot 
never do it. It used to scare me some when Billy {Discov- 
ers Elinor.) Ah, are you there. Miss Elinor ? I didn't see 
you. 

Elinor. No, you were too busy reading. What makes you 
read such stuff as that, Ashrael ? 



32 BREEZY POINT. 

ASHRAEL. Oh, I likes it. It makes me feel all shivery ! 

Elinor. Is that a pleasant feeling ? But how about your 
sweetheart, Billy Griffin ? I haven't heard you talk much al)out 
him lately. 

ASHRAEL. I hain't seen him alone, 'cause that French 
greenie is at my heels most of the time, but he's jest the same, I 
reckon. He's quiet, but I know he's desprit, 

Elinor. Still going to shoot himself? 

ASHRAEL. Oh, yes, I s'pose so. 

Elinor. What a dreadful thing it would be if he should ! 

ASHRAEL. Yes, of course, it would be ruther bad, but 
'twould advertise me well. Jest think how it would look in the 
papers ! A picture of Billy, with a revolver in his hand, on one 
side, an' me on the other with •• Ashrael Grant, the girl he died 
for," in big letters over my head. 

Enter Laura and Bernice, r, 

Laura. What a shame you had to catch your skirt on that 
hateful old nail, just as we were ready to start ! Halloo, Elinor ! 
Bernice is up for repairs. 

Elinor. Here is Aunt Debby's basket ; I'll fix it for you in 
a minute. \Girls up R. Elinor kneels and sews braid on 

Bernice's skirt. 

Ashrael {going up r.). Well, I guess I'll go in an' see if 
I can help Miss Dexter. {Discovers letter on tree.) For the 
land sakes ! what's that letter up there for ? {Taking it down.) 
•• Miss Ashreel Grant."' Why, what in the world does that imp 
want to write to me for ? Goodness knows I see enough of her 
without writin' 1 but she don't know much an' I hadn't orter 
expect she'd act as if she had common sense. She's so simple 
you can read her as easy as if she was made of glass. {Opens 
letter and reads.) " My poor Ashreel " : — Poor ! well, I like 
tAat, "You called me a greenhorn, but I haf made one big 
fool of you." What in the world is she trying to get at ? "I 
haf stolen your little Billie, and we shall be m-married to- 
night." 

\^S/ie stands perfectly rigid, closes eyes, hands clenched, 
ajid gives a siiccession of shrill, sharp screams. AUNT 
Debby a7id Clarice rushjn, girls surround her. 

All. What is it, Ashrael ? [^She continues to scream. 

Aunt Debby {shaking her). Speak, Ashrael ! Tell me 
what is the matter! 

Ashrael. They've run away ! Gone to be married ! 

Elinor. Who? Who has run away ? 

Ashrael. That French fiend has stolen my beau ! Pursue 
'em 1 handcuff 'em ! gag 'em ' 

All. Fantine ! 



BREEZY POINT. 33 

ASHRAEL. Yes, that little wrigglin' snake has swiped Billy 
Griffin right from under my nose ! And him a-goin' to shoot 
himself 'cause I wouldn't have him, the miserable little red- 
headed varmint ! 

BerniCE. Fantine run away ? 

AsHRAEL. Yes, I tell you, gone, hide an' hair of 'em ! 
[Bernice and Laura run off r., Ashrael walking 
stage and wringing hands. 

Aunt Debby. Sit down, Ashrael, and be quiet ; calm your- 
self. 

Ashrael. I can't calm myself! I won't ! 

Elinor. What makes you feel so, Ashrael ? You didn't 
want him. 

Ashrael. Well, I didn't intend anyone else should have 
him ! And there that critter was a-sneakin out to meet him 
nights, an' a-tellin me she went to look at the moon 1 

Clarice. Poor Ashrael ! 

Ashrael. Don't call me that, them's her words ! " Poor 
Ashreel ! " 

Re-enier Bernice and Laura r. Bernice, Aunt Debby 
and Elinor talk apart tip r. 

Clarice. No man is worth grieving for like that, Ashrael. 

Ashrael. It hain't so much the man, but it's the shame of 
havin' the wool pulled over your eyes like that ; 'specially by a 
little measly furriner ! Oh, I'd jest like to get my hands on to 
'em ! I'd scratch her eyes out and make him bald-headed in 
less'n five minutes ! I'd 

Bernice igoi^ig to her). Ashrael, listen to me, please. I 
am so sorry for you, indeed, I am ! 

Ashrael. Well, you needn't be ! He's the stingiest thing 
alive ! Gave me a ring once and it turned my finger black as 
ink ! 

Bernice. I was completely deceived in Fantine. 

Ashrael. I wasn't ! I knew she was a villian of the 
deepest dye. Oh, I'd jest like to use her for a dish-rag ! The 
little idjit, to leave a place like she had for a low-born butcher ! 
But I fooled her ! She thought he was a doctor. A doctor ! 
he don't know enough to pick the feathers off a hen ! 

Bernice. Ashrael, how would you like to take Fantine's 
place ? 

Ashrael. What, run away with him .? 

Bernice. No, stay with me. 

Ashrael. Huh ? 

Bernice. How would you like to take Fantine's place and 
go to Paris with me ? 

3 



34 BREEZY POINT. 

ASHRAEL. To Paris ? Me, go to Paris ? Somebody set a 
cliair for me, quick ! I know I shall faint — go to Paris ! 
Bernice. Aunt Debby is willing. 
Aunt Debby. It's a great chance for you, Ashrael. 
Elinor. The chance of your life. 

Ashrael. Hooray ! to Paris ! She's welcome to all the 
Billy Griffins from here to Canada line ! You mean it, miss ? 
no foolin' ? 

Bernice. I am very much in earnest, Ashrael. 
Ashrael. Well, there's my hand ! Pli stick to you through 
thick an' thin ! And when we comes back from our travels, 
we'll show 'em the stuff American citizens are made of! 

[Ashrael and Bernice c. Aunt Debby seated r., 
Elinor standing by her, Laura l. with arm about 
Clarice. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. « 

SCENE. — Sa7ne as Act I. Four weeks later. Bell on table 
R., hat on couch L. Clarice discovered R. of table 
reading. 

Enter Elinor l, 

Elinor. There ! I don't believe even Aunt Debby could 
beat that frosting. Oh ! you are here, Clarice. I thought you 
had gone to the post-office. 

Clarice. No, Edith went and the girls wouldn't let me do 
one thing in the kitchen. Laura chased me out with the broom 
and Bernice threw a pan of pea-pods after me. 

Elinor {laughing). You ought to see them ! Bernice has 
made some cream-cakes and Laura has started on a new 
receipt. The way she beats eggs would develop a regular 
base-ball muscle. {Sits L., at small table.) I feel as though I 
were in a dream every time I look at them, with their sleeves 
rolled up, working in the kitchen, upstairs, all over the house. 
Wasn't it aggravating that the cook's cousin's boy should break 
his leg the very next day after Aunt Debby went away .'' 

Clarice. I think it has been glorious fun keeping house ; 
only there isn't work enough to go 'round, with so many to 
help. 

Laura {at door l., sleeves rolled up, flour on nose). Where 
is the vanilla, Elinor? 

Elinor. Beside the package of corn-starch on the second 
shelf. Pm coming right out and 



BREEZY POINT. 35 

Laura. No, you shan't ! I'm nervous when I try a new 
receipt. I've just sent Bernice upstairs. [^Exii. 

Clarice. You see, Elinor, you are a sort of side issue in 
your own house. 

Elinor. You are all so good to me ! When I think your 
vacation is over and you are only staying- here to keep me com- 
pany, while Aunt Debby is gone, and that you are risking 
Madame Finikin's displeasure, it makes me feel guilty. 1 am 
afraid your vacation will be anything but a rest. 

Clarice. We promised Aunt Debby, of our own accord, 
not to leave until she returned. Bernice and Laura are not go- 
ing back to school and it will make but little difference if Edith 
and I miss a few weeks. She gets her tuition just the same, 
and that is what the madame is looking after. But, I say, 
Elinor, hasn't it been rather lively about here for a fortnight ? 
My head has been in a perfect whirl ever since we got back 
from camp, two weeks ago. Fantine started the ball rolling 
when she eloped with Ashrael's beau. 

Elinor. That was a blessing in disguise ; but when old 
Clem came up here one day, and was taken sick and died, 
that cast a shadow over us all. 

Clarice. And the next day Aunt Debby was called away. 

Elinor. She wouldn't even tell me where she was going. I 
cannot think why she acted like that, so quiet and strange ; she 
was never that way with me before. [ Wiping eyes. 

Clarice {going to her). There, Elinor, don't grieve over 
it ! You are the apple of Aunt Debby 's eye, and you may be 
sure there was some good reason for her silence. May be it 
was some business that she thought might worry you. 

Elinor. I am almost sure of that. 

Clarice. Haven't you any idea where she has gone .'' 

Elinor. Yes, Aunt Debby 's brother died, out in Kansas, 
last winter, and his affairs were badly involved. I feel almost 
sure that she was sent for to go there ; and if there was 
anything wrong she would not tell me until she was obliged to 
do so. But if she knewthat the hired help had deserted us, and 
that you girls had been working, she would be ill with anxiety. 

Clarice. Why do you give yourself so much uneasiness 
about the work ? {Sits L. of table.) It has been absolute 
fun ! and although I was sorry for Jane when she was " took 
with a felon," yet if she had to be " took," I was glad it was at 
that time. 

Enter Bernice l. 

Bernice. Laura puts on all the airs of a French cook. She 
has even chased the cat out of the kitchen, for fear she would 
jar the stove and make the cake fall. 



36 BREEZY POINT. 

Elinor. And here I am resting, while she is at work ! 

Bernice. Work ? Why it's the opportunity of her life to 
show us how much she learned at cooking-school last winter. 
Well, there is a certam kind of excitement when she tries a 
new dish; to see if it kills any of us. ^Siis R. 0/ table. 

Elinor (laughing). The only trouble is that she makes 
everything so good it doesn't last, and it keeps her cooking all 
the time. 

Clarice. She made a fatal mistake yesterday morning. The 
twins called^ and Laura had just made a dozen tartlets; they 
eyed them hungrily, so our dear little cook says : " Help 
yourselves, my dears ; " and they did, for not a tartlet remained 
to tell the tale ! 

Elinor [latighing). No doubt they were sick all night, and 
Mrs. Hardscratch dosed them with thoroughwort tea. But 
where is Ashrael ! I haven't seen her this morning. 

Bernice. I sent her to the village for some things. I have 
been making a note of everything I heard any one express a 
wish for, and I started her off bright and early. It is time she 
returned. [Rises, looks offc. 

Clarice {latighiftg). Isn't she proud of her new position } 

Bernice. It is a great satisfaction to me that I was able to 
recompense her somewhat for the loss of her sweetheart. 

Elinor. Poor Ashrael ! She has always been " aspirin'," 
and the thought of going to Paris nearly intoxicates her. You 
were born there, were you not, Bernice ? 

Bernice. Yes, it was my home until I was twelve years 
old ; then mamma died and papa never wanted to see the place 
again. {Sits on hassock by Elinor.) For several years we 
travelled incessantly, always trying to find some nook where 
he would be content. Ah, how he loved my pretty golden- 
haired mother ! I have seen him sit for hours with her picture 
in his hand, gazing at it so tenderly, and whispering such 
loving words that, child as I was,, I would creep into a corner 
and cry for him, as much as for myself. 

Elinor. Poor little girl ! 

Bernice. Then he would call me to him, take my face in 
his hands, and kiss my forehead and my eyes, because they 
were like my mother's, he would say. I had an old nurse, but 
she was garrulous and her constant chatter fretted him, so I 
was alone with him most of the time. 

Clarice. How did you learn so much, Bernice, flitting, as 
you were, from place to place ? I remember when you came to 
Madame Finikin's, you were in advance of nearly all the girls. 

Bernice. M*y father taught me faithfully. He was the 
closest student I ever knew, and when I was very small he 
nearly always spoke to me in German or Italian, and old Ma- 



BREEZY POINT. 37 

thilde was French, so I was versed in those languages very 
young. 

Elinor. Was he an invalid, Bernice ? 

Bernice. Not until my mother died ; then life seemed but 
a weary waiting until he should join her. His only regret was 
in leaving me ; but after we came to New York, and lie found 
Mr. Livingstone, a friend of his boyhood, who consented to 
become my guardian, and in whom my father had implicit con- 
fidence, a great burden was lifted from him and he gave up 
his life, day by day, so happily. 

Elinor. It must have been so sad for you, Bernice, to 
know he was slipping from you ! 

Bernice. Sometimes, at twilight, I would sit by his bed- 
side, with my head on his pillow, and he would say : " May be 
before another month I shall see your mother, dear." I shall 
never forget the night he died. He was delirious, and in fancy 
he was wooing my mother. He seemed to be walking with 
her in some lovely lane, where the trees were full of blossoms 
and the birds sang in their branches. I remember seeing him 
reach up to pick their blossoms, and then he would try to 
fashion them into a wreath for her hair. He said : " Hear 
that linnet sing ! He is pleading my cause, Janette." 

Elinor {^stroking her hair). Poor Bernice ! it was terrible 
for you ! 

Bernice. Just before he died he asked her to become his 
wife. I shall never forget the expression on his face, as he 
seemed to catch her answer and. raising his arms, he folded 
something to his breast that our eyes could not see, and mur- 
muring, "Sweetheart, naught shall divide us," he gently 
breathed his last. 

Elinor. I am afraid this recital has pained you, Bernice. 

Bernice (rises). No. It is always a pleasure to speak of 
my father. He was so happy to go, I would not have detained 
him if I could. I have much to be grateful for, much to make 
me happy. 

Enter Laura l. 

Laura. It's done, and it's a dream! 

Clarice. What 1 \Rises. 

Laura. The cake. 

Clarice. I'm alraid we will find it a reality that will be a 
heavy burden. 

Bernice. Maybe we will have the dream after we eat it. 

Laura. You just say two more words, either of you, and 
you shan't have a morsel ! You shall just look on and watch 
the rest of us eat it. [Knock at door, L. 

Elinor (rzj^j). Come in. 



38 BREEZY POINT. 

Enter the Hardscratch Twins, l. 

Bethia. Ma sent us over to see if we could help you any. 

Sophia. Do let us help you ! 

Elinor. My dear little girls, we are fairly over run with 
help. 

Bernice [to Elinor). See how disappointed they look ! 
We must find something for them to do. 

Elinor. Take your sun-bonnets off, and I will see what I 
can do for you. \_Exit L. ; the Twins sit on cotich. 

Clarice. Why aren't you at school, girls ? 

Bethia. The teacher's feller has got a fever, and she's gone 
for a week. She's got Lorinda Holmes to take her place, and 
mother says she don't know beans, so we needn't go to school 
til teacher gets back. 

Bernice [laughmg). Oh, I see. 

Bethia. Mother tairly hates the Holmeses ! When the fair 
was down to Gallville, last year, mother sent a quilt with nine 
hundred and ninety-nine pieces in it an' some pickled pears. 
Lorinda Holmes sent a quilt with a thousand pieces an' she 
took the prize. 

Sophia. An' her pickled pears had cloves stuck in 'em, an* 
mother's didn't, so she took the prize on them too, an' mother 
hain't spoke to her sence. [Girls laugh. 

Re-enter Elinor l. with an earthen dish, knife and dish 
of raisins. 

Elinor. Here, girls, I've found something for you to do. 
[Arranges chairs for thein, C.) Sit here and stone these 
raisins. {Exit Bernice c. Twins sit c.) Let me show you 
how to do it. Pull them apart, so, and take the seeds out with 
this little knife, like that. 

Bethia. Oh, that's easy ! 

Sophia. Awtul easy ! 

Re-enter Bernice c, with dress-skirt on arm. 

Bernice. And when you have finished, run into the kitchen 
and wash your hands carefully, then you may rip the binding off 
this skirt. {Puts it on chair R.) You will find two pairs of 
scissors in the work-basket, on the table. 

Bethia. We know how to do that, don't we, Sophia ? 

Sophia. Yes, that ain't nothin' ; we rip all of mother's clothes 
to make over for us. 

Elinor. Well, I'm going to tie up that rose-vine, over the 
porch. 

Clarice. I'll go with you. 

[Exeunt Clarice and Elinor. c. 



BREEZY POINT. 39 

Laura. Come on, Bernice, let's lie in the hammock, and 
see if it is artistically done. {Picking hat up from couch.') 
No, I shan't need my hat. [Throws it again on couch. 

Bernice. Who ever heard of a hat in a hammock ! 

Laura. Well, I can imagine occasions when they might be 
in the way. [Exeunt Laura and Bernice c. laughing. 

Bethia. Give me half of 'em in my apron, an' you take the 
other half, then we can each of us have a dish to put 'em in. 

[They divide raisins. 

Bethia {eating them). This is a good deal better than wash- 
ing down the back steps at home. 

Sophia {eating). Yes, or weedin' the onion bed. We don't 
have no raisins at our house. 

Bethia. I guess not ! When I get married it won't be to 
a deacon. [They eat raisins, only putting one in dish 

occasionally. 

Sophia. What will it be ? 

Bethia. Oh, a grocery-man ! and I'll have the house 
chuck full of good stuff to eat. What be you goin' to marry ? 

Sophia. Oh, a man what keeps a store ! and I'll havenew 
dresses every day in the week, with long trails to 'em. 

Bethia. Shan't you hold 'em up ? 

Sophia. No ! jest trail 'em right through the mud an' dirt, 
as if they didn't cost a cent. What should I care ? The store 
would be full of 'em ! 

Bethia. Pr'aps your husban' wouldn't give 'em to you ! 
Pr'aps he'd run off an' leave you ! 

Sophia. Well, he couldn't take the store. 

Bethia {eating last raisin in her lap, looks at dish aftd 
holds it down). Here, hand me your dish, an' I'll empty my 
raisins into it. 

Sophia- {looking at her dish and holding it doivn). No, 
hand me yours. 

Bethia {facing her). Sophia Zeniah Hardscratch, I'll bet 
you've eat them raisins ! . 

Sophia. I hain't eat 'em all. 

Bethia. How many you got ? 

Sophia {looking in dish). Six ; how many have you ? 

Bethia {looking in dish). Four. {Facing each other, 
stare blankly.) What are we goin' to do ? 

Sophia. Eat the rest of 'em an' say the cat got 'em when we 
went to wash our hands. 

Bethia. Yes, I guess that's 'bout all we can do. 

[They eat raisins and place one dish in other, and 
set them on floor. 

Sophia. I don't like raisins so awful well, do you ? 

Bethia. No, they're kind of sickish. 



40 BRKEZY POINT. 

Sophia {iviping hands on apron). My hands ain't very 
sticky, are yours ? 

Bethia {putting fingers in motcth and -wiping them on 
apron). Not so very. 

Sophia. Let's not wash. {Taking tip skirt.) That's an 
avvlul pretty siiirt, ain't it ? I'm goin' to have one jest like it 
when I marries tiie man what keeps store. {Putting skirt on.) 
Play I lived here and you was my hired girl. 

Bethia. I ain't a goin' to be no hired girl ! 

Sophia. Oh, jest for a few minutes, then you can dress up. 
{Walks up and dozan, looking at train.) You go out there 
{nods left) and I'll ring for you. 

Bethia. What if them girls should come ? 

Sophia, Oh, we'll watch for 'em. 

[Bethia goes to door l. Sophia rings bell, at table R., 
and Bethia comes down stage, 

Sophia. Bridget Ann Burke, you don't earn your salt. 

Bethia. Please, marm, I don't eat salt. 

Sophia. Have you mowed the lawn ? 

Bethia, Yes, marm. 

Sophia. And milked the ten cows ? 

Bethia. Yes, marm. 

Sophia. And scoured my di'mond ring ? 

Bethia. Yes, marm, an' I'm awful tired. 

Sophia. Well, you may rest while you tie my shoe. (Bethia 
stoops and ties her shoe.) Bridget Ann Burke, who was that 
man I saw in the kitchen last night ? 

Bethia. He was my first cousin. 

Sophia. What was he doin' here ? 

Bethia, Nothin', marm. 

Sophia. He was ! He was eatin' pie. I saw him with both 
of my eyes. I hid that piece of pie for my brekfus', an' you let 
him iiave it. You can't work for me no more. 

Bethia {kneeling and clinging to skirt). Oh, please, marm, 
don't turn me off! I've got ten brothers an' eight sisters 
a-starvin' ! 

Sophia. Rise up on to your feet. There is a half a loaf of 
bread in the buttery ; give it to 'em an' never show your 
face here no more ! Stop your weepin', an' hand me that hat ! 
{Poiftts to hat on couch.) I'm a-goin' to the circus. 

[Bethia gives her hat j she puts it on, and 
walks up stage. 

Bethia. Let me go, too, marm ! I want to see the snake- 
charmer. She is my sister. 

Sophia. Bridget Ann Burke, never speak to me no more ! 
I do not 'sociate with snake-charmers' sisters ! 



BREEZY POINT. 4 I 

Enter Elinor, Bernice, Laura and Clarice c, they start 
in astonishmeHt. 

Bernice. Why, Sophia ! what does this mean ? Why did 
you put that skirt on ? 

Bethia. I — I — ^jest had her slip it on to see where we had 
better begin to rip. 

Elinor. Oh, Bethia ! 

Clarice. Where were you going- with my hat, Sophia ? 

Sophia. I — I put it on 'cause my head was cold. 

S^Girls laugh. 

Elinor. Take those things off at once, Sophia. 

{She takes them off. BETHIA assisting her. 

Laura {discovering empty dishes). Where are the raisins, 
girls } 

Bethia. Ain't they there ? The cat must have eat 'em. 

Bernice. Oh, girls, girls, I am afraid you did not go to 
Sunday-school last week. 

Sophia. Yes, W'e did, and mother made us learn twenty-seven 
verses in the Bible. 

Laura. Poor little imps ! don't scold them. 

Elinor. You haven't been good girls and I'm very sorry. 

Bethia. So be we. 

Sophia. Awful sorry ! 

Bethia. Miss Elinor, you won't tell ma we were — were 
bad, will you ? 

Elinor, What would she do ? 

Bethia. Lick us like everything. 

Sophia. 0\\.,\W& everything ! 

Bernice {to Elinor). Life can't be very jolly for them. 
No, girls, we won't tell that you have been naughty this time, 
if you'll never do so any more. 

Bethia. We won't, honest and true ! 

Sophia. Hope to die, if we do. 

Bernice. Well, here are some pennies for you. {Gives 
them money.) You can buy some candy and then go home. 

Bethia. You're awful good ! 

Sophia. Yes, you be ! [Exeunt Bethia and Sophia, c. 

Elinor {laughing). That's the way Bernice punishes them 
for being naughty. 

Bernice. Well, haven't they got Mrs. Hardscratch for a 
mother ? and isn't that punishment enough ? Why the sight 
of that woman \Knock heard. 

Elinor. Hush ! some one is at the door. Come in ! 

Enter Mehitible Doolittle, l. 

Mehitible. Oh, you're here, be you ? I couldn't find any 
one in the kitchen. 



42 BREEZY POINT. 

Elinor. Good-morning, Miss Dooiittle. Come in. 

Bernice. You are quite a stranger. 

Clarice. Yes ; we were speaking of you yesterday. 

Laura. Where have you kept yourself? 

Mehitible. Well, I've been middlin' busy. {Sifs L.) I've 
been tackin' comfortables, cannin' plums, an' gettin' ready gen- 
erally. [Bernice and Laura on couch. 

Bernice. Oh, yes, for, the wedding. When is it? 

Mehitible. In jest two weeks. 

Elinor. Two weeks 1 and then you'll be an elder's wife. 

[Sits R. 

Mehitible. Yes ; it's quite an undertakin'. 

Laura. Has he been married more than once before ? 

Mehitible. La, yes, three times. 
■ Clarice {sits l. of table). Then he's used to " under- 
takin'." 

Mehitible. He's always a referrin' to the way Almiry, 
Dorcas or Phoebe did this, or that. I intend to cure him of 
such talk as that. He was showin' me over the house one day, 
and I saw a closet chuck full of dresses, sacks, bunnits, an'sich. 
" For the land sake!" says I, "whose be these?" "Them 
belonged to the dear departed. I've left six hooks, for I shall 
never marry but once more," says he, smilin' kinder pityin' like 
at me. "Wall," says I, "you never cared much for dress, an' I 
reckon those six hooks'U be enough for your clothes." He looked 
awful queer. \Girls laugh. 

Clarice. I can imagine he would. 

Mehitible. Which one of you girls was it that took the 
twins' picture ? 

Bernice. I am accountable for that, Miss Dooiittle. 

Mehitible. They beat all I ever see ! Jest as nat'ral as 
life. 

Bernice. We thought they finished very well. 

Mehitible. They did, for a fact ! an' I've been tryin' to get 
time, for two or three days, to run down an' ask you if you 
wouldn't take mine. 

Bernice. Take your picture. Miss Dooiittle ? Why I should 
be delighted. Just let me get my camera. [Exit C. 

Mehitible! I'm afraid it's makin' an awful lot of trouble. 

Laura. Trouble ! Why nothing pleases Bernice so much 
as to have a new subject. She has taken everything about the 
place, even to the pigs and hens. 

Re-enter Bernice, c, with camera. 

Bernice. Here we are. Miss Dooiittle ! 

Mehitible. Wall. I was thinkin' I'd like one for the elder. 

Elinor. I am sure he would prize it. 



BREEZY POINT. 43 

Mehitible. And I want it to he a little out of the ordinary 
run of pictures. 

Bernice {puzzled). A little out of the ordinary run ? 

Mehitible. Yes ; I want it to mean something. You see I 
won the elder's heart with my catarrh snuff; so I thought it 
would be ruther 'propriate to have it took with a box in my 
hand ! 

Bernice {latighing). Oh, I understand I a symbolical pic- 
ture. 

Mehitible. Yes, diabolical, that's it ! 

Bernice. Now stand right here, please. \Places her C. 

Mehitible {taking box from pocket). There,' how's this ? 
I'll jest hold the box so, and the other hand over my heart, so. 

^Takes position indicated. 

Bernice. Capital ! \Girls laugh, aside, 

Clarice. Yes, that is very artistic. 

Elinor. How pleased the elder will be ! 

Mehitible {still posing). Yes, he'll laugh nigh out loud 
when he sees it, he'll be so tickled. 

Bernice. Now stand perfectly quiet, 

Mehitible. Wait till 1 swaller. I s'pose I mustn't wink. 

yStares vacantly. 

Bernice. There ! I expect that will be the best picture I've 
taken yet ! [Mehitible has not moved. 

Clarice. It cannot fail to be. 

Bernice. That's all. Miss Doolittle. The picture is taken. 

Mehitible. Want to know ! Quick work, hain't it. 

Bernice. Yes, rather. The elder won't have to wait long 
before he shall have his picture. [Exit c. 

Mehitible. I mean to frame it in green moss before I send 
it. I don't intend to let Samanthy know nothin' about it. She'd 
think 'twas awful silly ; but she was kinder frisky, herself, be- 
fore she caught the deacon. I remember when she was courtin' 
him, she made him let his hair grow, so's she could have a 
bracelet made out ot it. His hair never was so awful thick, 
so she used part horse-hair. 

Clarice {laughing). People who are in love will do 
strange things. Girls will be girls, you know. ^ 

Mehitible {giggling). Yes, we all must have our day. 
{Re-enter BERNICE, c.) I'm awful obleeged to you. 

Bernice. Don't mention it ; you are very welcome. 

Mehitible. Wall, I must hurry home 'cause I've got to 
string some beans for dinner. When's Miss Dexter comin' 
home .'' 

Elinor. She did not tell us just when, but I expect her any 
day. 

Mehitible. Started rather suddint, didn't she. 



44 BREEZY POINT. 

Elinor. Rather. 

Mehitible. Wall, that's the way to have the best time ; jest 
start right off, without tirin' yourself out gittin' ready. {Going.) 
Good-bye all. 

Girls. Good-bye, Miss Doolittle ! 

Elinor. Come again. \Exit Mehitible, l. 

Bernice. What wzV/the elder say when he sees that picture ? 

Clarice. He won't say anything ; he'll be struck dumb. 

Ashrael (outside). Yes, 'tis awful hot walkin' in the sun. 

Bernice. Here's Ashrael at last. 

Enter Ashrael, with bag. 

Ashrael. There ! I b'leeve I hain't forgot nothin'. {Takes 
packages from bag and ptits them on table, R.) There's the 
salted almonds for you. Miss Elinor. 

Elinor. How good of you to remember, Bernice. 

Ashrael. And a box of candy for you, Miss Clarice. 

Clarice. Oh, Bernice ! 

Ashrael. Writin' paper, two yards blue rfbbon, four yards 
of lace, three spools of silk, and a crochet-hook for you. Miss 
Bernice. {Wiping face.) Whew! it's awful hot ! 

Bernice. You were a long time, Ashrael. 

Ashrael. Yes, I was detained a little. Guess who I saw ? 

Elinor. The twins. 

Ashrael. Twins ? no ! One of a kind will do for me. {To 
Bernice.) Can't you guess ? 

Bernice. I've no idea. 

Ashrael. Give it up, hey >. Well, I saw Billy Griffin, 
a-lias, the runaway lover. 

Girls. No 1 

Ashrael. Yes, I did, as true as I live ! and I gave him a 
lesson he won't forget in a hurry. 

Elinor. What did you do, Ashrael ? 

Ashrael. I was just comin' out of Rogerses store when I 
met him face to face. 

Bernice. Did he speak ? 

Elinor. How did he look ? 

Ashreal. Turrible ! just as if he'd had a fit of sickness. I 
purtended not to see him, but he walked right up an' said ! 
«' Oh, Ashrael, how could I ever have done it ! " " Sir ? " said I 
with an awful vacant stare. " Oh, Ashrael ! " he says agin, 
"she's a reg'lar fiend, an' I wish I was dead forty times a 

day ! I'd rather have your little finger, than " " My good 

man," says I, " you must be insane. I have never sot eyes on 
you before ! " \Girls laugh. 

Clarice. Oh, Ashrael ! 

Elinor. Did you say that ? 



BREEZY POINT. 45 

ASHRAEL. I jest did !. an' he ketched hold of my sleeve, an' 
says : " You don't know me, Ashrael ? Ah this is more crueller 
than death ! " Jest then a peiiiceman came along an' I says : 
"Mister Perlice, here's a man what's crazy as a loon. I was 
just makin' a few purchases, pre'vus to goin' to Paris, an' he 
insists on molestin' me. I wish you'd take him in charge." An' 
he hooked on to Billy's arm in spite of him a tryin' to explain, 
an' the last thing I seen, he was a yankin' him. down the street. 

^Gir/s laugh. 

Bernice. Served him right, Ashrael. 

Laura. " Hell hath no iury like a woman scorned ! " 

Ashrael {shocked, aside to Bernice). Land sake ! does 
she swear ? 

Bernice {laughing). Oh, no. That was a quotation, 
Ashrael. 

Ashrael. Well, it sounded to me like swearin'. 

Elinor. You are well rid of that fellow, Ashrael. 

Ashrael. I reckon I know it. Well, I'll just run upstairs 
an' slick up your room. Miss Bernice, an' then, if there's any- 
thing to do, I'll be ready for it. 

Bernice. Come, Laura, we'll go with you. There are ever so 
many things to do. 

Ashrael. Well, I'm just the girl to tackle 'em ! 

\Exit Bernice, Laura and Ashrael, c. 

Elinor. How glad I am Ashrael is so happy ! She is a 
rough diamond, but the worth is there, and polishing will 
show what she really is. Now I'm going into the garden to 
pick some currants, and if Aunt Debby doesn't cbme home right 
away I'll try my hand at currant jelly. 

Clarice. I'll go with you. 

Elinor. No, the sun is hot and your head will ache. Just 
keep cool, my dear, that's my advice. \^Exit L. 

Clarice. May be she is right. The sun plays havoc with 
my weak head. {Drops into chair R.) Dear me, I haven't 
the strength of a mouse. I'm indigo all of the time and it's a 
perfect force trying to be jolly for, as Lowell says : " When I'm 
smiley 'round the mouth, I'm teary 'round the lashes." Heigho ! 
I'd never have believed, two years ago, that any man could 
have given me such a heartache. Maybe it's Edith's engage- 
ment that makes my own trouble seem harder. Dear little 
girl, how happy she is ! I hope nothing will ever happen to 
destroy her trust. \^Leans head on hand. 

Enter Edith with letter in hand, c. 

Edith. Oh, I'm so out of breath and my head is spinning 
round like a top ! I must find Clafe at once. {Discovers her.) 



46 BREEZY POINT, 

Oh, there you are ! Clarice Fenleigh, I was never so happy in 
my life ! 1 could scream, dance, run ! 

Clarice {rising). What in the world is the matter, Edith ! 

Edith. Lots ! Oh, dear, let me get these gloves oft" and sit 
down and gather my wits, like a rational being. 

[Removes hat and gloves. 

Clarice. Sit here, dear, and get cool. (She sits L. of table 
R.) Here is a fan. {Gives fan.) You have been rather fiigiity 
for several weeks, but I've never seen you quite as bad as this. 
What is it ? {Sits R. of table.) Has some wonderful good 
fortune befallen Dick ? 

Edith. Oh, he's the dearest, best boy in all the world ! 

Clarice. No doubt of it, I shall offer no argument. 

[Laughs. 

Edith. And I would hug him, if he were here. 

Clarice. Oh ! 

Edith. And so would you. 

Clarice. No, I wouldn't. 

Edith. Then you'd be an ungrateful little minx ! Oh, I 
was positive he'd do it ! but I didn't say a word. Do you see 
that letter, miss ? [Holding up letter . 

Clarice. I see an envelope ; cream color, ordinary size, 
nothing extraordinary to look at. 

Edith. You just wait ! That letter will make you so happy 
you won't know where you're at ! That letter is from Dick. 

Clarice. How can it interest me ? Edith, I thought you had 
left off using slang. 

Edith. I don't care a rap about slang ! Oh, dear, where 
shall I begin ! 

Clarice {laughing). Begin at the end. 

Edith. Good idea! Well, then, Miss Clarice Fenleigh, you 
will be engaged to Charles Grierson, Jr., this very night. 

Clarice {rising). Edith ! 

Edith. There, there, sit down and get ready to be happy. 
(Clarice sits.) Well, you know that day I went driving with 
Dick? 

Clarice. Yes. 

Edith. Well, I asked him if he knew where Charlie was, 
and he said he left him in the Adirondacks ; that he tried to have 
him come up here with him, but he refused when he learned 
you were here. 

Clarice {bitterly). Naturally. 

Edith. Well, then, I just told Dick every word that you 
told me. 

Clarice. Oh, Edith ! I'll never forgive 

Edith. Yes, you will, and thank me, too ! Well, Dick said, 
as I did, that there was some mistake. 



BREEZY POINT. 47 

Clarice. I don't l)elieve it. 

Edith. Well, you'll have to ! So Dick went straight back 
to the Adlrondacks the very next day. Charlie had gone from 
there, and he's been following him from place to place, until 
he located him a week ago, and this is what Dick says. 

[Ta^es letter from envelope. 

Clarice. Oh, Edith, go on ! 

Edith. Getting a little nervous yourself, aren't you, Miss 
Placidity ? Well, I shan't read you how it begins, but just 
what concerns you. 

Clarice. Yes, yes. 

Edith {reading letter). " Found Grierson to-day, after 
chasing him all over the country. He's more deeply in love 

than any man you ever saw, except one " Oh, dear, I didn't 

mean to read that, " and that bouquet business caused all the 
trouble. You see it was like this. Charlie went to the flori§|'s 
and ordered two boxes of flowers ; English violets for his 
sister, who was ill, and roses for Miss Fenlei^h. The mistake 
was, of course, made in delivering the boxes. I've just ex- 
plained matters and I never saw a happier fellow in my life. 
We leave here to-day and shall be with you Thursday evening." 
That's to-night. " Don't say a word ; Grierson has the ring in 
his pocket and it's a sparkler ! " There, I'm not going to read 
another line. Why don't you speak ? 

Clarice (rises and walks L.). I am so dazed, dear, that I'm 
afraid to speak, afraid to tell you how happy I am, for fear it 
is not real. 

Edith. Well, I reckon, you'll find it's real when you see 
him. I think it's the jolliest thing I ever knew. 

Clarice {ar7/i about Edith). And you did all this for me ! 
Sent your sweetheart away, when you would have been so 
happy to have him near you, and 

Edith. If he hadn't gone I should never have cared one 
bit for him, never ! 

Enter Ashrael c, out of breath. 

AsHRAEL. Miss Dexter's come ! The stage is at the door ! 
Where's Miss Elinor ? 

[Exit L., calling, " Miss Elinor .' Miss Elinor ! " 

Enter Aunt Debby, Bernice and Laura c, Bernice carry- 
ing satchel, wraps, etc., "LAXiKA box and umbrella. Girls 
surround her, 

Edith. Oh, Aunt Debby, you've come ! [Kisses her. 

Clarice. And I'm so glad. Do stand back, Edith, and let 

me have a chance ! [Kisses her. 



48 BREEZY POINT. 

Laura. Sit right down here and let us take your things off. 
[They seat her at table L., and remove her bonnet, 
gloves, etc. 

Aunt Debby. Be careful of that box, Laura, my dear. 

Laura. I've put it over on the table there. Aunt Debby. 

Aunt Debby. Hov\' good you all are ! But where's Elinor ? 
[Elinor and Ashrael running on L. 

Elinor. Here I am ! {^Embracing her.) I was in the 
garden and I fairly flew to get here. You don't know how I've 
missed you. Ashrael, bring a glass of wine. Aunt Debby looks 
tired. (Ashrael going.) I say, Ashrael! [Aside to her.) 
Do not tell Aunt Debby that Bridget and Jane are gone. Wait 
until she rests a little. {To Clarice.) Tell the girls not to 
mention it. 

[^Exit Ashrael l.; Clarice whispers aside to Edith, 
Bernice and Laura. 

Aunt Debby. I am a liitle tired. Travelling is new busi- 
ness for me. How good it was of you girls to wait for my 
return ! I'm afraid it has been a sad inconvenience. 

Bernice. Laura and I could stay as well as not, and I'm 
pretty sure Edith and Clarice aren't in any great rush to get 
back to " Finikins." 

Edith {mysteriously). I'm not so sure we shall go back. 

Bernice. What do you mean ? 

Edith. Just stand back, while I whisper to Aunt Debby. 

\Pushing girls aside, whispers to AUNT DebbY. 

Laura. Well, I like that! What's up, Clarice 1 

Clarice. I — I am sure — I 

Edith. Don't ask her, but to-night {mysteriously) when 
the clock strikes twelve, I will a tale unfold 

Enter Ashrael l., with glass of wine, 

Ashrael. This will put some life into you. Miss Dexter. I 
tell you it seems good to see you again, for, somehow, I couldn't 
help feelin' that a burglar had broke into the house an' carried 
everything out of it. And now I'm jest goin' to get luncheon 
ready for you. 

Aunt Debby {drinks wine). Tell Bridget 

Ashrael. Oh, never mind Bridget, she's tired ; I can do it 
jest as well as she can. 

^Exit Ashrael l., winking at girls. 

Aunt Debby. It's worth going away to receive such a wel- 
come as this. My heart was very heavy when I left, but 
now, it's lighter than it has been for years. 

Elinor. Lean back in your chair, Aunt Debby, and don't 
try to talk until you get rested. 

Aunt Debby. I cannot, my dear. Why, I could scarcely 



BREEZY POINT. 4 9 

wait until I got here, I have so much to tell. No, I cannot rest 
until I have unburdened my heart. Sit down, my dears. 
Elinor, sit here at my feet. (Bernice and Laura sit at table 
R., Clarice; and Edith on couch, Elinor at Aunt Debby's 
feet.) I'm not a good hand at telling fairy-tales, but this 
sounds so much like one that, as the twins say, I've felt like 
pinching myself to see if it were true. 

Bernice. I know it's something nice, for Aunt Debby looks 
so happy. 

Aunt Debby. One summer evening, a long time ago, a 
lonely old maid found a dear little baby, in a basket, at her 
door. She took the little one to her heart and home, without 
knowing her parentage. Eighteen years later, when the baby had 
grown to be a young woman, and the sunshine of the home into 
which she had come so strangely, an old gipsy woman died, 
and confessed to this woman that she had stolen this child from 
a rich family in St. Louis, because they had driven the gipsies 
oif their land. 

Elinor. Oh, Aunt Debby ! \Rises and stands beside her 

much agitated. 

Aunt Debby. The poor old maid wanted to ascertain if the 
story was quite true, so she never said a word, but started to 
find the family the old gipsy had told her of. 

Bernice. Why, Aunt Debby, that was you ! 

Edith. And the child was 

Laura and Clarice. Elinor ! 

Elinor {kneeling by Aunt Debby). Oh, Aunt Debby, go on ! 

Aunt Debby. And so the old maid went to St. Louis and 
found 

Elinor. Yes ? 

Aunt Debby. Found the father ! (Elinor kneels and buries 
face on Aunt Debby's shoulder.) The mother had been dead 
ten years. {All rise.) Yes, my Elinor, your father awaits his 
child. He had been ill and was not strong enough to come to 
you, but he is longing for you every hour. You will be very 
proud of your father, Elinor, for you are the daughter of the 
Honorable Richard Arlington, whose name is a power where 
he is known. 

Elinor {throwing arms about her neck). Oh, Aunt Debby, 
I can never leave yoi{. 

Girls. No, indeed ! 

Aunt Debby. The sweetest part ot it all to me is that I am 
to go Vv'ith my little girl, to stay with her always. 

Elinor. Oh, Aunt Debby, is it true } 

Bernice. Isn't it glorious ? 

Clarice. Better than any fairy-tale I ever heard ! 

Edith. Let me hug you, Elinor. 
4 



50 BREEZY POINT. 

Girls. Pass her round. 

[Edith embraces her and turns her once around into 

Clarice's arms, same business with Laura and Ber- 

NICE ; girls all laughing, saying, •' My turn next ; pass 

her to me." etc. 

Aunt Debby {giving Elinor box). Your father sent you 

these flowers, Elinor,, with his dearest love. 

Girls. Aren't they lovely. [Elinor sits at table R., gazing 

at flowers lovingly. 
Laura. Is he rich, Aunt Debby ? 
Aunt Debby. As the prince in the fairy-tale ! 
Bernice. But, Aunt Debby, what's to become of us } We 
can't come to Breezy Point again. 

Aunt Debby. This will be my summer home and yours, as 
long- as you wish to make it so. 
Bernice. Glory ! 

Edith. Three cheers for Aunt Debby ! 
Laura. And Lady Elinor ! 

Clarice. And dear old 

Girls. Breezy Point ! 

[Aunt Debby back of Elinor's chair, r., Elinor holds 
her hands about her neck, looking up into her face lov- 
ingly. Chair at table left, swung around with back 
facing stage centre. Edith kneeling in it, facing Clar- 
ice, who holds her hands, one arm about her. Bernice 
and Laura centre. Pause for tableau ; then a noise of 
wheels outside and a loud masculine voice crying 
" Whoa, whoa, boy!" 
Ashrael {run7ting on C). Oh, Miss Bernice, they is two 
young men jest drove up in a buggy an' they're comin' in. 

\All rise and turn towards door C, forming picture. 
Bernice. See who they are, Ashrael. \Goes L, 

Laura {to l.). Yes. hurry, Ashrael. 

[Clarice and Edith rise and come c, looking up stage j 

a pause of suspense, then — 

Ashrael {runniftg in c, in a hoarse whisper). It's Mr, 

Richard Coleman and Mr. Charles Griersoi). (^Looking off ; 

aloud.) This way, gentlemen. 

\^General expectancy j justas the two men are about to enter. 

CURTAIN. 



A NEW FARCE COMEDY. 



THE WIDOW FROM THE WEST. 

A Farce Comedy in Three acts. 

By HILTON COON. 

Five male, three female characters. Scene, an easy interior, the same for 
all three acts; coscuraes, modern aud eccentric. This piece, whicli was success- 
fully presented for a s«asou by ilie Don C. Hall Comedy Company, touring the 
Western States, is a farce comedy of the irresponsible school founded by Mr. 
Hoyt. Depending largely tor its fun upon the contributions of individual 
humor of its players, it reciprocates by supplying a strong, if loosely woven, 
fabric of plot which can be embroidered with " specialties " to any extent. 
Plot is not usually a strong point in such pieces, but " The Late Mrs. Early," as 
it has also been called, provides quite enough to carry the interest of the per- 
formance successfully. The piece has plenty of incident and " business," and 
room for mucli more, and its characters provide an excellent basis for clever 
comedians to build " hits " upon. Not recommended for schools or church per* 
formance, as it is essentially theatrical in character. 

Price * 15 Cents. 



SYNOPSIS. 

.■ 

ACT I.— The Weeping "Willow Hotel. Indis Guys, the detective. Back 
from Klondike. " After the ball," The old maid's visit. A clever scheme. 
The Widow from the West. " If I was n't a married man." Tlie rivals. A tele- 
gram. Sick abed. Angelina arrives. 

ACT II. — The two nurses. Sassafras tea. The bell-boy. Touched for two 
hundred. " Charge it in the bill." The red silk stocking. The detective again. 
"No one has ever seen my face." A noted criminal. Touched again. "Dis- 
charging" the boarders. "Ephesus, you have deceived me." Angelina defied. 

ACT III.— "One-eyed Eddie." The French maid. The widow and the de- 
tective. Knit vs Nit. "O Dusty! this is so sudden." A cloclc in a fit. The 
haunted house. Touched again. More fits. "Just like a man's beard." Caught 
at last. The telegram. "What's the dilf— I've got on pants?" Angelina abol- 
ished. 



AN ENGAGING POSITION. 

A Comedy in Two Acts. 

By LEWIS E. MACBRAYNE. 

Three male, three female characters. A briskly and humorously written 
Uttle comedy, with an ingenious plot, full of ludicrous situations. A society 
piece, admirably adapted for amateur performance, and caili. g for pretty 
though not elaborate stage settings, and handsome modern costuming, morning 
and evening dress. Its story concerns a young society man, who, by a series of 
mistakes, becomes engaged to three young ladies at one time — a somewhat try- 
ing and difficult position, the solution of which is ingeniously accomplished with 
most amusing results. An excellent piece, and a sure hit in the proper hands. 

Price IS Cents, 



Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 

BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS, 



A NEW COriEDY. 



A GILDED YOUTH. 

A Comedy in Three Acts. 

By CHARLES TOWNSEND. 

Originally produced under the title of " Moses." Three male, two female charac- 
ters. Scenery, three easy interiors; cotsumes, modern. This piece, originally pro- 
duced by the author and employed by bim for several seasons as part of his repertoire, 
provides for a full evening's entertainment and yet calls for but five characters. It is 
unique in ihis paiticular, and meets a want often felt by small professional companies as 
well as by amateurs. It naturally follows that every part is an important one, since so 
few people are reqviired to carry the interest of the piece, which is second to none of the 
author's extensive list, and possesses to the full those qualities of briskness, bustle, wit, 
humor, and "go" which constitute his professional trademark. Its story is neces- 
sarily a slender one, but it is complicated with an unusual wealth of humorous incident 
and ludicrous situation, and its action never flags for an instant. An " all star " com- 
edy for low comedian, " touch and go" light comedian, old man, old maid, and sou- 
brette. Strongly recommended. 

Price 25 Cents. 



SYNOPSIS. 

ACT I. — Time, a midsummer afternoon. Long Branch. A romantic maiden. The 
Colonel gets news. Sam and Sadie. The pitcher of milk and the tale of a cat. Aunt 
Sadie's " nerves." Moses! Acaseofmix. Sam gains a promise. Trouble threatened. 
Trouble comes. A grand smash. 

ACT II. — Five minutes later. Sam's letter. Law and love. Sadie's suggestions. 
The "Slugger." Sam on his muscle. Moses and the Colonel. More mistakes. " Set- 
tled out of court." The broken promise. Mosesa wreck. *' I want revenge." A joint- 
stock love-letter. Sam's device. Aunt Sadie sees a chance at last. Sam reads the Riot 
Act. Comical climax. 

ACT III. — An hour later. At the Colonel's. Aunt Sadie grows impatient. Moses 
more mystified. Sam talks politics with the usual result. The Colonel on the warpath. 
Sadie's scheme. "' Back me up now." The storm approaches. A cyclone — of fun. 
Sam's triumph. " After the storm, a calm." 



A Novelty in Entertainments. 



APOLLO'5 ORACLE. 

By ESTHER B. TIFFANY. 

An entertainment in one act. This novel entertainment is admirably adapted for 
summer theatricals at hotels or country-houses, not only because it requires no scenery 
and calls for Greek costumes only, which are easily arranged, b'jt because its fun de- 
pends as much upon the audience as upon the actors. Two ladies and one boy are re- 
quired for its representation, and any nt(mber of girls for chorus. Complete with music. 

Price 15 Cents. 



Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 

BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON, MASS. 









TT-TP TVTT A ^^T^TT? ATHP" I -^ Farce in Three Acts. By Arthiir W. 
1 rXC IViT^VJlO 1 XVXi. 1E« piMKRo. Twelve male, four female char- 

—————————— acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, all 

interi()r. Tlie merits of this excellent and amusing piece, one of the most popu- 
lar of its author's plays, are well attested by long and repeated runs in the >i^ 
principal American tlieatres. It is of the highest class of dramatic writing, and ^i^ 
is uproariously funny, and at the same time unexceptionable in tone. Its entire \v 
suitability for amateur performam^e has been shown by hundreds of such pro- fl\ 
ductions from manuscript during the past three years. Plays two hours and 'A! 
a half. (1892.) fky 

l\ nTT-TP TVT/^T'O'P T(^T TQ A Drama in Four Acts. By Arthur W. fl\ 

1'^ inc^ l^KJ l\JI\J.\JKJ<J PiNERO. Eight male and five female charac- •'" 
.* TVn?^ ThRR^IUTT'T'T-T ters; scenery, all interioi-s. This isa"prob- 
1^ IViXvO* HDiJOlVlJ. X Xx* ]e,|^ " play continuing theseries to which " The 

\y — 1 Profligate " and "The SecondMrs.Tanqueray" 

liV belong, nnd while strongly dramatic, aiut intensely interesting is not suited for 'ViC" 

fy amateur performance. It is recommended for Heading Clubs. (1895.) fj^ 

"• 'T'TJT? PP r^TTT ir* A TT7 I A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pine- •T! 

A-tT-I-* r IVV^ri^lVJ/i X Ji. ji(y Seven male and five female characters. il\ 

' Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; "Ai 

costumes, modern. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatic in mI\ 

movemeut, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suited for ama- vY^ 

teur performance. (1892.) ' fn 

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS J ^^^i;^rst.:^^uai!j^:^ri^ 't 

* male characters, (.'ostumes, mod- ^|^ 

ern ; scenery, three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable ^iv 

farce was played by Miss Kosina Vokes during her last se;ison in Anierica, with rl* 

great success. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, its dia- iiv 

]i>giie l)iiniant, and its scheme of character especially rich in quaint and humoi'- f^\ 

ous types. The Hon. VereQueckett and Peggy are especially strong. The piece j^ 
is in all respects suitable for amateurs. (1804.) 



THE SECOND 
MRS. TANQUERAY. 



if/ 
f 

(1804.) Also in Cloth, $1.00. W» 

W/ *sWFFT T AVFMDFR I ^ Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur ^1/ 

i> "^WliJ::.! J^.tt. V liiNl-'IilV. w. Pi.NEKO. Seven male and four female }V. 

J/ —^——^————^—^—^ characters. Scene, a single interior, the %l/ 

'!•. same for all three acts ; costumes, modern and fashionable. This well known ^^ 

ll/ and popular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it lias been %■/ 

'- often given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its ^I^ 

comedy interest abundant and strong. (1893.) ^I# 



A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur "W. 
PiNERO. Eight male and five femalechar- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three 
interiors. This well-known and powerful 
pl.iy is not well suited for ainate\n- per- 
formance. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among tlie reading public in 
answer to the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has createii. 



THE TIIVIES I A Comedy in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Ptnero. Six 
■'••'-'-' ••• x-^'-'J-^J* I niale and seven female charactere. Scene, a single ele- 
gant interior; costumes, modern and fashionable. An 



f 

entertaining piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. \§£ 

(1802.) W 

TMF 'M7T7AK'FP QTTY I A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur }'/ 

xxix^ Wi:tfU \JLrv. jrLA« W. Piner'o. Fight male and eight female %!/ 

' characters. Costumes, modern : scenery, Tv, 

two interiors, not difflcult. This very amusing comedy was a popular feature of %l# 

the repertoire of Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in this country. It presents a plot of ?K 

strong dramatic interest, and its incidental satire of" Woman's Rights'" em- MJ 

ploys some admirably humorous characters, and inspires many very clever lines, ?K 

its leading characters .are unusually even in strength and prominence, which M# 

makes it a very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (1894.) !», 

w 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



^ 



NEW OPERETTAS FtrK®v.?iIJSL?7^ ^ 



EDITH'S DREAM. 

%Xi ©T^txtitd. for Ctiiltirciu 

Words by MARGARET FEZANDIE and EDGAR MORETTE. 
Music by EUGENE FEZANDIE, Jr. 



Eleven characters, girls and hoys, or all girls, as preferred ; te5i or more addi- 
tional for chorus. Scenery unnecessary; costumes, pretty ai>.<l fanciful, but 
easily arranged at home. This ailniirabie little piece is printe<l com|)leti' with 
music. It is very tuneful and gracefully imajTjneil, anil is strongly reconiiiieiide<l 
for private theatricals or for schools, it is paiticul;uly well suited Inr tin- latter 
use. as it deals whimsically with the question of youthful study, inculcating, 
'lowever, aii excellent moral. 



Price 



35 cents. 



# 



ODD OPERASSEVENTIDE. 

A Collection of Short and Simple Musical 
Entertainments for Children. 

By MRS. G. N. BORDMAN. 



This collection provides a simple operetta, a fairy opera, a picturesque motion 
song, a quaint musical pantomime, a pretty musical sketch, and two original 
humorous recitations forchildren, complete, with all the music, and full instruc- 
tions for performance. The luusic is tuneful and simple, and is .sjieoially written 
with the tastes and limitations of children in view. 1'lie solos are easily learned 
and sung, and all the clioruses are wiitten for voices in uidson. The collection 
is strongly recoiumended for its siini>licity and perfect practicability. Meither 
stage nor scenery is den)an<led, nor any other requirements tiiat cannot he mtjt 
without trouble by theequiiuuent of the ordinary hall or church vestry, and the 
zeal of the most economical committee of arrangements. 



Price 



CONTENTS. 



60 ceiitg. 



A Glimpse of the Brownies. A 

i\I usieal Sketch for Children. Any 
number of hoys. 

Market Day. An Operetta for Young 
People. Seven speaking parts and 
chorus. 

Queen Flora's Day Dream. An 

Ojieretta for Children. Six speak- 
ing parts and chorns. 



The Boatinp Partv. A Musical 

Sketch for IJttle Children. 'J'hirty 

boys and girls. 
Six T.ittle Orandinas. A Musical 

rantomiine for very Little Children. 

Six very little girls. 
Jimmy Crow. A Kecltation for a 

Little Girl. 
A House ill the Moon. A Kecita- 

tlon for a Child. 



I 

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k 

(Us 
(Us 
(ts 

4s 

/IN 

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